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blueberry-yogurt-academy · 2 years

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Take That! [Cookie Run Fanfiction]

Read on AO3

Requested by: @thegollldenrowantree

Pairing: Cherry Blossom Cookie x Kumiho Cookie

Rating: Teen and Up

TWs/CWs: kidnapping, physical violence, fighting

Summary: After a long date night with her girlfriend, Kumiho gets kidnapped by a mysterious group of cookies. Cherry Blossom eventually discovers what happened and gives those cookies exactly what they deserve for messing with her beloved girlfriend.

A/N: Hey everyone! Give it up for my first Cookie Run fic ever woohoo!

So um, yeah, I wrote exactly what was requested and didn’t stretch much further than that, sorry :’) I gave the kidnappers literally no motives or anything lmao and there’s a lot of plotholes in here but just roll with it ok /lh—I tried to make the fic lighthearted and humorous to make up for that though.

Also, just for the record, the “yellow-haired cookie” that Cherry Blossom mentions here isn’t supposed to be a canon character. None of the kidnappers are, actually. I just made them all up.

Hope you enjoy!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“Hehe! See you later—I love you~” Kumiho called to her girlfriend as she waved goodbye to her, exiting the taxi that had pulled up in front of her small home. She and Cherry Blossom had just finished a fabulous date night, at a quaint though gorgeous restaurant. The two of them had stayed out much longer than intended, as it was nearing midnight by the time the taxi had pulled into her driveway. The streets were pitch black and there were no sounds save for some noisy, nocturnal animals.

Though it had been fun—and truthfully, the best date they’d had in a while—Kumiho was dead tired and she only let it show when she heard the taxi wheels completely pull away and the bright lights were no longer visible. She stumbled to her door and fumbled with the keys, her eyes already half-closing. She carelessly trekked directly to her bedroom, threw her purse on a tall red velvet chair, and sank into her bed, dress and all still on.

So…sleepy… Kumiho purred quietly to herself, shapeshifting into her fox form for maximum comfort. She fell asleep as soon as her eyes fluttered shut, expecting an excellent, long sleep. However, unbeknownst to her, there were other cookies who had different plans…

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Kumiho stirred awake at some point in the middle of the night at a source that was unknown to her (at that moment, at least). However, it took her close to a split second to realize that she was being carried somewhere, by a masked cookie and what seemed like two accomplices, all dressed in blacks and grays. She woke up fully in an instant and panic set it; her eyes shot open and she began to scream, only to have her mouth clamped shut by a cold, gloved hand. “Be quiet!” the masculine voice snarled; they lifted their head to nod at someone, who Kumiho couldn’t see due to the way she was being held, in a way that restricted her neck from moving.

The blue-haired cookie’s heart was pounding, but a little bit of logic began to set in simultaneously. She deduced that she must’ve forgotten to lock her damn doors and windows last night, in her exhausted state. She mentally berated herself as the masked cookies continued to talk amongst each other and carry her. Thinking about last night soon made her think about Cherry Blossom and once again, her adrenaline raced. Oh no…she’s going to be devastated once she finds out about this! Kumiho thought. How was Cherry Blossom even going to find out what had happened? Oh God, she hoped her girlfriend wouldn’t assume the worst. She hoped the worst wouldn’t happen. What was even their motive for doing this to her? Kumiho began to hyperventilate, but then quickly thought that that probably wasn’t a good idea and tried taking slow, deep breaths instead. It didn’t help very much.

Soon she felt the cold air on her dough and realized they’d taken her outside. She didn’t have many neighbors, and the ones she did have all were indeed sleeping. Plus, Kumiho had to give it to these cookies, they were stealthy and quiet. Her mind didn’t drift from Cherry Blossom once as the kidnappers continued to carry her to somewhere strange.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Good morning, my dearest! Did you sleep well? I hope you feel a little better from last night <3

Cherry Blossom hit the ‘send’ button on that text, putting her fork down as she did so (her and her little sister, Cherry, had just gotten done eating a breakfast of waffles). Confident that her lover would answer her soon, she set the phone back down with a smile and polished off the last of her orange juice. Afterward, she took both her and Cherry’s dirty dishes and placed them in the sink to wash later.

She didn’t hear a buzz from her phone yet, but Cherry Blossom didn’t think much of it. Kumiho might’ve still been sleeping. The pink-haired cookie went about her merry morning, still subtly waiting for a text back.

However, even as the afternoon dawned closer and closer she still didn’t receive a text back. At around noon, she decided to send another one:

Are you alright? I’m getting a bit worried.

After just a few minutes of still no reply, Cherry Blossom got too anxious and called Kumiho. No answer. She took a deep breath and tried calling again. Still no answer. Her stomach a little in knots, she tried to reason the situation out with logic. It was a very long night. Plus she likes to oversleep sometimes. I’m sure she’ll answer me very shortly.

Cherry Blossom gradually grew more scared as the minutes—and hours—began to pass by. By two o’clock she thought she was going to faint with worry. At this point, she was pacing around her living room, her finger on her chin, eyebrows scrunched together. Cherry was playing with a toy car set on the rug, glancing up at her sister every so often with concern in her own eyes. “What’s wrong, Cherry Blossom?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Cherry Blossom continued to pace, throwing her hand up in the air in an exasperated way. “I’ve tried calling and texting Kumiho dozens of times and she still hasn’t replied,” she replied, voice cracking. “I’m really worried.”

Cherry fully stopped her play and instead sat with her legs crossed, fiddling with one of her toy cars. Cherry Blossom paced around for a few more seconds before she couldn’t take it anymore. “That’s it! Something has to be wrong with Kumiho. She just does not sleep in this long. Never.” She paused, looking down at Cherry. “Something has to be wrong,” she repeated.

“Are you going to call Detective Almond?” Cherry asked.

“...No. I don’t think that will be necessary,” Cherry Blossom said slowly. What she had planned, if her suspicions as to what happened with Kumiho were correct, was not something she needed a detective to know about, that was for sure.

Cherry immediately knew what her sister was implying and smirked, her own devilish nature quickly showing through. “If anybody decided to mess with Kumiho, I hope you kick their butts!” she exclaimed.

Cherry Blossom matched her sister’s smirk. “Oh, I will. They’ll shake in fear the next time they even see my face.” Cherry giggled at this. “Cherry, would you be okay with staying at Miss Latte’s for a little while?” She was always Cherry Blossom’s go-to option when she needed a babysitter for Cherry. Walnut stayed at Latte’s house quite a lot while her father was at work, and Cream Puff was also a frequent visitor to the professor’s home; plus, there were usually other little kids that came in and out of the house, so Cherry usually always had other children to play with over there. In addition, Latte was as sweet as anything and was very trustworthy.

Her little sister enthusiastically nodded her approval of this, and Cherry Blossom’s decision had been made. “Come on, dearie, get your coat and shoes on. I have a mission I need to complete.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

After dropping Cherry off at Latte’s, Cherry Blossom headed straight over to Kumiho’s house to see if she was there first. After pulling into her driveway, Cherry Blossom raced out of her car and went to go knock on the door, hard. “Kumiho?” There was no reply, nor any noise, coming from the other end. “Kumiho? It’s me, Cherry Blossom.” No different results were yielded. Cherry Blossom let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. She yanked the doorknob, and her heart sank further when it was revealed that the door was unlocked. Oh no…

Cherry Blossom slowly walked into her girlfriend’s home, searching literally every corner, like a cat sneaking around for its prey, to possibly find clues that could tell what happened to Kumiho.

Kumiho’s bedroom by far gave off the most hints out of any room in the house. Her lamp was knocked down and appeared to be broken. The covers on her bed absolutely destroyed; one pillow was on the foot of the bed, while the other was on the floor. Cherry Blossom covered her hands over her mouth and gasped, then exerted a small shriek. “Oh no!” she hushed. “Something horrible happened here!” She frantically began searching the entire bedroom in more detail, looking for any clues.

Eventually, she found something: a few strands of hair, just across from Kumiho’s nightstand where the lamp had been. Cherry Blossom delicately picked up the strands of hair.

Bright yellow hair, practically the color of lemonade. Definitely not the same color as Kumiho’s. Which meant, someone had to have been in the house with her sometime between last night and today. Cherry Blossom started to pace back and forth; she began to piece together the possibilities. The worst had to have happened. She just had a gut feeling about it. But…who could have done something bad to Kumiho? Cherry Blossom knew many yellow-haired cookies, a lot of whom couldn’t have possibly been the suspects—ruling them out either by common logic or, just personality-wise, it was very hard to accuse them of such a thing.

Another thing to consider: what if this certain cookie had had accomplices? Judging by the room, Kumiho had struggled quite hard to free herself. (That was most likely the reason the strands of hair had been on the floor in the first place, Cherry Blossom deduced.) Kumiho was stronger than she looked; Cherry Blossom knew she would’ve been able to, at least, injure just one cookie, even a particularly big one. But an entire gang of thugs? That very well could’ve been a different story.

There was one possible thing to do, Cherry Blossom knew that: she had to search around everywhere to see if she could find her girlfriend. Literally everywhere—intensely questioning every single yellow-haired cookie she could possibly think of couldn’t do.

She tucked the strands of hair into her tiny purse as if they were a bottle of lipstick; she closed the zipper tightly and patted the purse, swinging it more comfortably over her shoulder.

Task number one completed—now time to finish this mission and find her beloved girlfriend. At least, hopefully, she’d find her.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

So, Cherry Blossom went through the entire town in an attempt to find her beloved girlfriend. She went into shops, stores, and restaurants, as well as asked some cookies to see if they possibly had any info or had seen Kumiho—nothing.

She eventually found herself stepping into some obscure woods near the border of the town. It was nearing nighttime by the time she got there, which gave her even more chills.

Cherry Blossom put her hands near her neck and face and let out some choked sobs. She felt helpless, depleted at this point. She had looked literally everywhere in town at this point, and if she didn’t find Kumiho here, then she was really in a very desperate situation. “Kumiho,” she tried to call out, loudly, but her voice just came out small and cracked. “I’m…I’m really starting to get freaked out. Please be okay.”

As if someone had heard her (though there was no way that was possible, due to Cherry Blossom’s voice being so quiet), a scream crept up from the distance. Cherry Blossom’s eyes immediately shot open and she put her hands down; she sprang into action and began to run toward where she thought she’d heard the noise.

Cherry Blossom almost stumbled over rocks and branches at multiple points, but she still persisted—what if that was Kumiho screaming? “Don’t worry!” she shouted. “I’m coming!”

She soon came to a small, wooden cabin, colored a dark gray and slanted slightly backward. It, quite literally, looked like it could topple over at any moment. Cherry Blossom stared at it for a moment; she huffed, loudly, taking in a huge breath of air to brace herself for what could possibly be in there—even the worst. Then, she ran toward it and swung open the creaking door.

Behind the door, she saw her beloved, tied to a chair, with three cookies in black ski masks, and gray outfits. “Cherry Blossom!” Kumiho cried out in glee when she saw her girlfriend’s face.

“Be quiet!” one of the kidnappers immediately snapped back after hearing Kumiho say this.

Cherry Blossom’s face completely changed after hearing the cookie say that—she narrowed her pink eyes and a sneer grew on her mouth. “Now, who do you think you are talking to my Kumiho like that?” Before the cookie could answer, she stomped up to him and began hitting him, with as much force as she could—and it was a lot, especially considering her appearance. She didn’t look that strong, that was for sure. And, she used both her fists and the makeshift weapons on her, such as her purse.

The other cookie criminals, naturally, ran up to defend the cookie that’d first been attacked, but Cherry Blossom swiftly got them as well. Eventually, she had them broken down enough that they were all on the floor. One was coughing vigorously, and another just moaned. The third one had even been knocked out. (It was probably due to Cherry Blossom slamming her purse directly against his head—what could she say? That’d been a good blow.)

As soon as she was done with them, Cherry Blossom immediately rushed over to untie Kumiho, who lept into her arms at once, turning into her fox form. “Cherry Blossom! You found me!” she cried out. She turned back into a cookie and looked at the cookies on the floor, cupping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my goodness! You really did a number on them.”

Cherry Blossom put her hands on her hips and tilted her head a little. “I did. Anything for you, my darling,” she said in a sweet, syrupy voice, a total contrast from the screaming she’d done while brawling with those three cookies.

“I was so scared, too…” Kumiho said. She smiled, slowly, and held onto Cherry Blossom’s hands. “Thank you. I don’t know what they would’ve done to me if you didn’t come.”

“It’s no problem at all, my darling,” Cherry Blossom replied. Her voice dropped a few pitches then. “I will make sure nothing bad happens to you. At all.”

Kumiho smiled. She loved her girlfriend and all her complexities. Including…this one. She was glad to be safe again.

The two women walked out of that cabin, arm in arm—as if they’d just gotten done looking at a flower garden—with the three kidnappers still lying there, depleted.

“Hey, how about we go grab some lunch. I am just starving!” Kumiho suggested merrily.

Cherry Blossom giggled. “Same! But…it’s past dinnertime, not lunchtime! But still, we can of course go!” She bonked Kumiho’s nose with her finger—one of her favorite things to do. As always, Kumiho did her little nose scrunch and her signature giggle.

And, just like that, no one knew of the incident besides Cherry Blossom and Kumiho (and those three kidnapping cookies, of course). The pair wanted it to remain that way.

#emma writes #cherry blossom cookie x kumiho cookie #cherry blossom cookie #kumiho cookie #cherry cookie #kidnapping tw #physical violence tw #fighting tw #I'm sorry if this sucks I haven't written much in a long time I'm very rusty :(

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keiyoomi · 3 years

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▸ title: the proposal ▸ details: 1.3k+ words | s. kiyoomi × reader | slight angst, fluff ending ▸ note: rewritten version of this fic which i wrote when this blog was still new. lmk what you think about it! hihi. ah, and as usual, unedited.

“You’re not avoiding her, right?” Komori asked after reading the message that you’ve sent him. “Don’t tell me this is still about—”

“—I don’t know how to do it, when to do it, and where to do it.” Sakusa unconsciously nipped the tip of his finger. “I want it to be perfect. To be grand, yet intimate. I want everyone to hear how much I love her and how important she is to me.”

“And you’re avoiding her because. . .?”

Sakusa sighed. “I might end up proposing on the spot.”

Komori stared at the television where they were watching their previous matches. An idea crossed his mind after watching the video clip wherein his cousin made numerous service aces followed by the spectacular reactions of MSBY’s fans. “I know when and where’s the perfect time and place for you to propose.”

⚭

You were nervous, to say the least.

From the moment Komori picked you up from your place, until he made you sit near the courtside along with several family and/or friends of the other players present, you couldn’t seem to calm your nerves.

Not when you haven’t seen your boyfriend in person for more than a month. No text messages, no video calls, hell, even the emails you’ve sent were blatantly ignored. You even tried to visit his place to check on him, but he wasn’t there whenever you visited.

You were dying to know the reason why he’s doing this because you’re sure that you haven’t done anything that would cause any drama in your relationship.

Rumors about him dating an influencer were peacefully discussed and fixed. He easily solved your problem with your officemate who’s shamelessly flirting with you.

So, why is he avoiding you now?

Why now when you’ve finally learned how to handle each other and how to respect each other’s boundaries?

Why now when you two could easily discuss numerous issues just to avoid any unnecessary conflicts?

You roamed your eyes around the arena and looked for anyone you knew, or probably knew you. But you couldn’t even see Osamu who was standing behind his food stall earlier.

“What the hell is happening here?” you wondered. Soon after, the lights went out and you don’t have the slightest idea of what’s about to happen. Neither the fans of both Adlers and Jackals who watched the monsters’ generation’s rematch in person.

Amidst the confusion, a familiar tune began to play in the background earning a mixture of shrieks and cheers from the fans. “Welcome to MSBY’s channel! This is Hinata Shoyo and—”

“—Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Hearing his muffled voice reminded you of that day when you first met each other. Back when he deliberately approached Karasuno’s team while waiting for your turn to play. Back when he asked for your name without caring about the people watching his every move.

You sighed and smiled upon hearing the lifeless response of your boyfriend, contrary to Hinata’s bubbly way of introducing himself. Sakusa was wearing his MSBY face mask, one that was sold out as soon as it hit the market recently.

“Today we’ll be able to know more about Sakusa-san.” Shoyo threw one of the cards he was holding somewhere in the room earning a glare from Sakusa. It was noticeable how Shoyo winced upon feeling his senpai’s sharp gaze. “Few days ago, there was a poll on twitter. We’ve asked our fans—your fans—for their input. The result of that poll was surprising, at least according to Miya-san.”

“My poll didn’t even reach that number!” You giggled upon hearing Atsumu complain. Everyone in that room—the members of MSBY, you guessed—laughed at his complaint earning more whines from the blond setter.

“Three-fourths of the total number of those who voted wanted to know more about your love life.” Shoyo looked at Sakusa with hesitation. “Will that be—?”

“Y/N is fine with that.”

Blush crept on your cheeks upon hearing his response. Hearing MSBY’s supporters cheering and whistling made you feel more shy than you already are. “What the hell is happening here?”

“First question, when did you first meet L/N-san?”

“Before our match during the Spring Tournament.” He looked at the bubbly wing spiker with deep frown. “Can you not pretend that you didn’t know when it happened?”

“I-I’m not pretending or anything, Sakusa-san!” Hinata responded, clearly startled by the response from your boyfriend. You shook your head at Hinata’s reaction though. It was as if he was caught lying on the spot by someone.

Well, Sakusa wasn’t entirely wrong though. You were helping Hinata with his warm-up exercises when Sakusa Kiyoomi approached your group. You, to be exact.

A sudden rush of nostalgia flooded your system. It’s been a long time since your relationship with the “snobbish, germaphobe” blossomed into something wonderful. Something that you’d like to protect and take care of for your entire lifetime.

Hinata cleared his throat before reading the next q-card. “Next question—”

“If it’s about our first date, it was in Tokyo. When your team was invited by Nekoma. When and where did she agree to become my girlfriend, when our team visited yours, just before we graduate.” Then, you noticed that glint in his eyes whenever he’s teasing someone. “Karasuno didn’t even notice that one of their beloved managers went out.”

Hinata looked flustered upon hearing the response from your boyfriend. “Uh. . . Sakusa-san, when did you realize that she’s the one?”

You waited for his response, but instead of hearing his reply, the music playing in the background played louder than his voice. “What? Come on!” you complained, earning snickers from the people surrounding you.

Then, the lights were switched on.

Your jaw dropped when you saw the members of MSBY holding a letter. Sakusa was kneeling on top of a black yoga mat in front of his team members, hands holding a black velvet box with a shiny ring inside. Tears clouded your vision, but after reading the whole sentence, you laughed at the words formed.

‘MARRY ME WILL YOU?’

With shaky legs, you approached Sakusa and cupped his face before kissing his lips. He hasn’t voiced out the question yet, but you’re sure as hell with your answer. It doesn’t even matter if Bokuto and Atsumu’s group jumbled the words. What matters most is you and that man kneeling in front of you.

“Should I still ask you the question?”

With teary eyes you nodded your head while giggling. “Only if you’ll say their question out loud.”

His eyebrows furrowed before looking at the men behind him.

You could hear him curse at his teammates, somewhere along the lines of ‘stupid Atsumu.’

He, then, looked up at you. Eyes were begging, probably for you to drop the jumbled words made by his team, and you did.

“Y/N, you’re the most precious person I’ve ever met in my entire life. I am more than willing to tolerate your personality, but I do appreciate it if you’ll minimize your interaction with Atsumu—”

“Kiyoomi!”

“I’m always looking forward to our adventures together and I would never get tired of you and your weird habits. As long as our kids don’t get your worst quirks—”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

He chuckled. “I’m kidding,” he responded before kissing the back of your hand. “Will you allow me to become the happiest man in this place today? To be your lawfully wedded husband and to be the father of your future children?”

You nodded your head, unable to form any words at the moment. He slipped the ring on your finger before scooping you up and twirling you, earning cheers from everyone inside that gym.

“You still have to explain why you avoided me for a month, okay?” you whispered against his ear.

“And here I thought I’m off the hook.”

“Mmhmm. You wish.”

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

*in an echo* Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday~! ‘Tis Wednesday, friends! You know what that means! MORE OF MY WORD BLURBS! >:D

Thank you @noire-pandora and @oxygenforthewicked for that tags! *throws flowers at you!* <3

Get ready for the sibling ANGST in the upcoming chapter of Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows! And where people are probably going to be like, ‘Why is Fane so cold? D:’ *side eyes*:

“...What do you mean?”, Mhairi’s voice eked out after a few more moments of the two of them just standing and staring at one another, the space between her brows twitching with emotion and confusion. Fane frowned at that look of pain and befuddlement. Damned Creators, this was the moment he had been dreading. He was able to be selfish with Cyfrin, but he couldn’t with his sister because…

...she deserved to know the truth. Cyfrin had, too, but it was different when it came to Mhairi. He couldn’t place why. She just..deserved to know. More than anyone, even as he continued to hide other things from her, the abuse and the scars, the nightmares and the magical aversions that he knew made her question herself, and that was the last thing he wanted to continue piling onto her.

It was why he had to leave, to leave her, so that she could find happiness by forgetting about him and all that he was. She was blue and he was grey, and as always, grey had no place within blue and vice versa. He had no place in her life anymore, the task given to him by their mother done, in a sense. It was time for him to...disappear. For her happiness, even if the initial blow he would deliver would give her anything but.

Fane sighed, heavy and tired. “You know what I mean, Mhairi.”, he said, voice dropping deep as the strain that he had been fighting against came forward. He still couldn’t say it! He was trying to make her say it for him! How much more of a monster could he be?!

He gripped the crimson sash around his waist tightly, having started to unravel it but stopped when the atmosphere in the room had taken its turn. How typical for him to have been touching something cherished when the one who had made it was shattering, tearing apart like its velvet, right before his eyes, ice melting more with water, ivory visage twitching as maroon lines of June began to draw downwards with pain and disbelief. A frown cracked his stony mask then, twisting the sash at his waist, a quiet rip making it deepen further. This was all his fault.

I’m sorry, sister. I’m sorry that I’ve caused you nothing but grief and pain. Fane thought, unable to voice the words himself, too weak to say them as his sister’s cracking, wobbling voice spilled forth.

Mhairi shook her head. “N..No, I don’t.”, she denied, cradling his sword for dear life, body trembling with the truth, but her mind unwilling to accept it until he found the words. “I..I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean, Fane? What do you mean?!” Delicate voice rising, cracking, its lilt near a shrill of disbelief and fear. His ears began to ring again, but he kept his face stoic, hard. The summit of the mountain was approaching and they stood upon the precipice, looking down, but not up.

Tick. Tick. Tick. He could almost see the clock hands in his mind’s eye, shutting his physical ones to block out shimmering blue. They were as black as night, numbers glowing with foreboding crimson. Tick tick tick tick. Faster, brighter, closer. The big hand and little hand were nearly one. Nearly one...

Fane took a deep breath, letting the scents of chocolate, vanilla, and Gladiolus permeate his senses, solidifying his resolve that was shaky at best, crumbling as a beloved face was at worst.

She deserves to know. Tick, tick, tick. She deserves to know. Tickticktickticktick. She deserves to--

GONG. The bell. He could hear the bell as the numbers blazed with scarlet, shading the blackened walls of his mind in its sinister light. It was time. No turning back the clock. Time was as much a nuisance as words were, but he had to heed their sickening calls.

He must endure. He must speak, and so he would, opening his mouth as well as reopening his eyes to see shaking, cracking ice and a pudgy nose taking in shuddering breaths for a shred of calm. The sight of such anguish, such pain, nearly had him shutting his mouth, but he had to tell Mhairi the truth. He would not be like their father. He would not leave her without a word, even if he found such words pointless. He had to tell her he was--

“...I’m leaving, Mhairi.”, Fane finished his thought aloud, eyes glued to the pair gazing up at him, beseeching and veiled in warm water of salt and sorrow before he reiterated more softly, more tenderly just for them, “...I’m leaving the clan. For good.” The words stung, his heart stuttering with anxiety, his mind reverberating with the dreaded gong he could still hear in the back of it, his deep frown deepening more to where it felt like a scowl.

When would the hour pass? When would it stop hurting?! Damn him! Damn him and all that he was!

...I seem to have a thing for clock analogies this time around. Tick, tock, tick, tock! >:D

Tagging: @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @aymayzing @dungeons-and-dragon-age @a-drama-addict @dreadfutures @shift-shaping @varric-tethras-editor @whataboutbugs and anyone else who’d like to share! (no pressure, and always let me know if you’d not like to be tagged! <3)

#wip wednesday #dragon age #my writing #oc: fane lavellan #oc: mhairi lavellan #ngl this chapter has been slow going because i fought FOREVER with what POV i wanted to tell it from #i'm trying to get into Fane's head space more because most if not all the chapters after this one are going to be in his POV #with the occasional Solas one of course~ >:3 #obviously this still needs refined a bit more #skeletal format~ skeletal format~

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morgulscribe · 2 years

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The Best Gifts Are Homemade

Some seasonal reading...

Yuletide comes to Barad-dûr, and Annatar, Lord of Gifts, has a sack full of presents for his most loyal servants, the Nazgûl.

[...] The Dark Lord sat upon His crystalline throne of black adamant, gazing out benevolently upon the assembled court. Upon His head He wore a golden circlet which He had crafted to resemble a crown of holly, with leaves studded with emeralds and berries made of ruby. His rich velvet tunic was of scarlet trimmed with white fur upon the sleeves and hem; holly leaves embroidered in thread-of-gold and stitched with green rhinestones ran down the front of the garment. A caplet of ermine hung from His broad shoulders, fastened with a jeweled brooch in the shape of the Eye of Fire. Around His waist was a belt of finely tooled leather, and upon His feet, He wore fine black leather boots which had been shined to a bright polish. His garments were of superb craftsmanship, for they had been made by elven tailors who were forced to labor as thralls in Barad-dûr and sew garments for the great Gorthaur.

The bright red and the pristine white of the Dark Lord's tunic and caplet stood in sharp contrast to His face, which was unnaturally black, as though a shadow had been brought to life. The very essence of darkness and eternal gloom, His appearance was terrifying to behold, for it was as though the black emptiness of the Timeless Void had manifested itself in the form of a man, tall in stature and great in might. From beneath the shadows of His brow, His eyes shone like twin flames, burning with the heat of an unholy forge. If His eyes blazed like fire, then His long, flowing hair was like smoke, swirling over the snowy caplet like inky tendrils, surrounding His head and shoulders with an aura of shifting shadows and glowing embers. If He had been entertaining special guests, or going amongst His subjects in Nurn, He would have worn one of many decorative masks to hide His terrible visage, but there were no strangers here. He smiled magnanimously at the Nine Nazgûl, His pearly fangs gleaming in the darkness, and with a clawed hand bade them come forward.

Nine figures approached the Dark Throne and bowed in deference to their Liege. Accepting their obeisance, the Lord of Gifts graciously extended His hand for His vassals to kiss as a show of their loyalty.

"My Nine most noble sons, My Eye has been watching all that ye do, and though some of you have been naughty at times," the fiery eyes narrowed slightly as they gazed into the face of the Lord of the Nazgûl, "I am mostly pleased by what I have seen. It is the tradition to give gifts during Yuletide, and tonight, the longest night of the year, I shall bestow upon My beloved sons gifts I have made with My own hands. Long hours have I spent at My forge deep within Amon Amarth, crafting these tokens of My love and esteem."

Read the rest at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175481

#sauron #nazgul #mordor #sauron is santa claus #the greatest giver of gold and rings #christmas #yule #thecirclesofpower

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

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Pitchfork Music Festival 2021: 9/10-9/12, Union Park, Chicago

Maxo Kream

BY DANIEL PALELLA

Considering the state of the world, Pitchfork 2021 did not feel unusual--despite the presence of masks and the (extremely welcomed) September date, the tone and energy of the festival felt largely like previous ones. This could just be public unrest and yearning for normalcy, but the festival felt wholly familiar. Keeping my mask on hand felt just like one more thing to keep track of while I neurotically made sure I had my camera, phone, wallet, keys, and water.

Animal Collective

And for me, personally, starting it off with an Animal Collective set really brought me back. The band had the full lineup, feeling like a true return to form. Opening strong with “In the Flowers,” AnCo quickly set the tone for the set. A track that normally leads to a fugue-like drop with a trance of synths and pulsating drums instead meandered gently into a soothing synth arpeggio, keeping loyal to the song’s original music while offering a laid-back take on it. This would be gold standard for the rest of the set; if Animal Collective’s premise was a jam band for the digital age, then this set truly saw them leaning back into that “jam band” aspect of their persona. While they still maintained an air of psychedelia with glittery synthesizers, morphing pastel backdrops, and Avey Tare’s trademark yelps, Animal Collective did not employ some of their more cacophonous tricks that have marked past iterations of the band. Nothing about this set was grating or jarring. Instead, we were treated to a breezy set containing mostly newer material, but some very nice arrangements of older tunes, including “Fickle Cycle”--a surprise deep cut from their Grass EP--and a triumphant crowd and fan favorite to close it all out, “Purple Bottle.”

Phoebe Bridgers

As disappointed as I was to have to miss local footwork savant DJ Nate and UK freak rockers Black Midi due to work, Friday night offered stellar performances from Big Thief and Phoebe Bridgers. Phoebe’s fandom, especially, cannot be understated--it felt like every other shirt or sign at Union this weekend was for her (the standout being a big cardboard “Phoebe Spit in My Mouth”). Simply being in the presence of that crowd was pretty electrifying. It was some of the most intense and genuine excitement I have ever felt from a crowd for one artist. Her emergence was met with an ear shattering chorus of screams, and every new song felt like it was going to whip the crowd into a frenzy. That kind of burgeoning stardom is special to witness. And while I’m woefully under-familiar with her work, “Kyoto” was undeniably a bop.

RP Boo

Early Saturday was a nice change of pace with some hip-hop and footwork a la Maxo Kream and RP Boo. The former seemed to really enjoy himself, energizing the crowd with a chant of “Fuck 12. Fuck Covid.” RP Boo was a delightful last-minute add to the festival. Hot off of a record release the previous night at Smartbar, he DJ’d an uplifting mix of familiar and new material. But the highlight of any footwork performance is the dancing. RP Boo brought with him two absolutely killer dancers who traded feverish moves all set. The crowd loved it.

Ty Segall

I figured I knew what to expect from a Ty Segall set. It would be raucous and fun, and the crowd would go nuts. I severely underestimated the sheer heaviness and volume of what the Freedom Band was bringing though. This set was pure Sabbath worship, with snarling fuzz and deep, rumbling lows. I was a fool to not bring earplugs to the pit; I had to leave early.

Kim Gordon

Kim Gordon, on the other hand, did not bring such energy. While it is truly exciting to be in the presence of a legend from a beloved band, her sordid set of wandering spoken word, whimpering guitar freak outs, and regrettably forced-feeling trap beats just felt put-on.

Angel Olsen’s grandiose, orchestral arrangements were not too large in scope to overpower her star power. Though her sound has gotten bigger, her voice and persona still shine through. Her set also sent a tinge of hope through the crowd--it was their very first performance post-lockdown. Cheekily proclaiming she had been so inspired the night before by the prospect of playing again, she asked the crowd if they were okay with her performing a brand new one the band had just learned; she then launched into “Shut Up Kiss Me.”

St. Vincent

Finishing off the night, St. Vincent’s trademark incredible stage presence was a delight. Annie Clark’s personality and confidence shine through in all iterations of her music, and she still shreds on guitar.

Yves Tumor

Wandering around for most of early Sunday, resting and catching brief bits of everything, I was most anticipating Yves Tumor, and his set absolutely delivered. Tumor’s glam rock era lends itself to a wildly high-energy, euphoric show. Backed by a band that resembles the cast of Lost Boys, Tumor worked his way through hits such as “Gospel For a New Century”, “Crushed Velvet”, and “Jackie”. The real standout, however, was a reworked rock arrangement of Safe in the Hands of Love single “Noid”.

Erykah Badu

Closing out the weekend, Erykah Badu was everything you could have hoped for--an incredible stage presence, a legendary artist playing a career-spanning set--and she showed up!

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renxamamiya · 4 years

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Kinda sequel to this fic (happens after). For my Shadow!Ren AU.

The Fool’s Theatre sat upon the top of the impossible building, the foyer empty, immaculately clean, devoid of any activity in contrast to the other foyer’s beneath it. The main door, lined with smooth velvet, decorated with crevices of faces, stood forward, almost welcoming. Yet, if one tried to open the door, they would have found it locked, keyhole or panel or anything to betray it opening without the necessary objects. It would only open for a select few, ones with an invitation. And one other.

Elevator doors swished apart, Joker stepping out, his clicking heels muffled by the carpet that led him to the doors of his beloved theatre. He only needed to wrap his gloved hands onto the handles of the doors for them to open, him doing so dramatically, flinging them open as lights that were once shut flooded the theatre with heavenly light.

Oh how he loved his theatre, red carpeting stretching across the many aisle, rows of black, comfortable leather seats sat in uniformed rows, his favourite chandelier glowing with light, hanging delicately below an Epic of paint of reds, white, black and gold. Balconies of theatre booths surrounded the main stage, decorated with golden columns that shimmered within the theatre. He savoured the sound of his footsteps, still muffled by carpet, hands in his pockets. Climbing the stairs, the first click of his heels on polished, immaculate hardwood of his precious stage sent a shiver down his spine.

He nonchalantly wandered towards the back of the stage, disappearing behind red, towering, velvet curtains, turning right to finally find himself in a pale, white corridor, boring doors lining each side, with one exception. Stark red and black decorated his door, located at the end of the hallway, the first thing anyone would see when peering into the hallway. He walked towards it, hand on the doorknob, a second to check his reflection on the golden door plate bearing his name, before flinging it open. “I’m home!” he said playfully.

The dressing room was as luxurious as the theatre it was housed in, red and blacks decorated each crevice, white and gold accenting countertops and tables and door edges, expensive platters of food, bottles of drink, and electronics scattered across the room, all with a marble floor, gold veins accenting cracks between the rock. Closing the door behind him, Joker ignored all the temptations surrounding him completely, instead wandering towards the back of the room to another door. Opening it, he was greeted with a dark room, with monitors all around, alive with footage of different performances and hallways and foyers, a vast array of control panels with buttons twinkling around a seated figure on an office chair.

“Hello, my very special guest.” He greeted joyfully, yet the smile plastered on his did not reach his eyes, “How are you? Did you enjoy today’s show?

He grabbed the head of the chair, spinning it around to face his guest. Ren, bound by tight, metal cuffs, head bowed low, hands balled into fists, replied with nothing. Joker frowned, hard, grey irises accented with red, puffy eyes avoided his glittering gold ones. He cleared his throat.

“In a bad mood, are we-”

“Why the fuck would you ever say those things to Ryuji.” Ren spat, snapping his gaze to Joker’s, defiance electrifying his angered expression, light illuminating the streaks of tears still somewhat fresh on his face, his lips chapped, his voice nasally, “He didn't deserve any of those remarks! He stuck with us through thick and thin! He always believed in us-”

“And yet you thought those thoughts.” Joker cut Ren off calmly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk with each word uttered, “Never saying them without a joke, keeping them buried deep within your heart, where they festerd and rotted and grew each day alongside the other rotten things you keep bottled up. All I did was open that bottle, your words bubbling up my throat, spilling out in the form of insults towards him.”

“Even if I did have those thoughts, I’d never hurt Ryuji.” Ren stated, still definitely resisting his shadow.

“Oh but you want to.” Joker purred, inching closer until their faces were almost touching, gold gazing into grey, his other staring intensely at his other. “After all, I am thou, thou art-”

Ren took the opportunity to headbutt his shadow. Hard. A sickening cracked snapped the tense air. Joker stumbled back, clutching the bridge of his nose, mask threatening to slip off his face, wide, golden eyes shimmered with shock and pained tears.

“I am NOT you.” Ren screamed at his shadow, jerking forward in his seat, metal cuffs digging into his soft skin, “I never wanted to hurt Ryuji, to hurt any of my friends. Do you really think you know me?” he continued to jerk against his restraints, his chair threatening to tip over, “You know nothing of me, you’re just a distorted facet of me, a mask gone rouge-”

“I’m THE mask.” Joker cut off, wiping the trickle of blood from his face with his gloved thumb, the cracks on his mask melding back together until the surface was again flawless, “The mask you wear around in public, at university, around friends, around family, where you constantly hide in my shadow. I’m not just a piece of you. I AM you, the sinful thoughts you hide away from everyone, given form, and now that I am here, in front of you-” he spread his arms, gesturing dramatically to himself, his voice booming with gusto, looming at his audience, “You DARE deny me!?”

Ren scowled in response. Joker sneered at his other.

“Fine.” Joker growled, turning on his heel, making his way towards the small kitchen area, leaving Ren to contemplate on his shadows words.

“I don’t want to hurt Ryuji. I don’t want to hurt any of my friends... Do I?” he asked himself, head lowered, eyes gazing at his lap. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to drown out the click of his shadow’s heels on the marble floor, trying hard to dig up repressed emotions. Yes. There were instances where he wanted to smack Ryuji on the head for outing them to Makoto, wanted to chastise Morgana for leaving them after disagreeing with him on Okumura, wanted to make Ake - Goro, suffer for almost killing his found family. Twice. Everytime he dug a shard of evidence in his memories, he felt suppressed resentment tighten his throat, his heart sank a little more.

He squeezed his eyes shut, swinging his body, and the chair, towards the monitor, he looked for the map of his palace. The Chariot Theatre. The third one up marked green. The third mask. Out of how many, he thought. How many phantom thieves he asked himself? Eight. So eight thieves minus three masks…

His throat tightened, lips dry, guilt from his revelation about his true emotions and hopelessness suddenly sinking heavily in his chest, suffocating him with its immense weight. Glass smashed behind him, painfully aware of the shaky breaths of his shadow. It was getting harder not to cry again, tears already pricking his eyes, a sob sitting uncomfortably in his throat, his shadow’s breaths getting faster and faster and faster, only adding to his misery. His first sob paralleled Joker’s cry of utter joy. He could practically hear his shadow drool from his misery, only making it harder to stop himself from the cusp of yet another crying fit, yet when Joker moaned loudly for more he couldn’t help but gasp another sob, too disgusted at himself, his true nature. He looked at the map again, his hands shaking violently within his restraints, his eyes pleading, trying to shelter the flame of hope that flickered in his waning heart.

“Please.” he sobbed under his shaking breath, eyes squeezing shut, trying so, so hard to block out his shadow’s delighted mewling, “Please hurry everyone.” he begged, a stark howl from behind, “Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

#dan's log #txt #persona #ren amamiya #myfanfic #palace: theatre of mirrors #idk I don't feel like tagging anyone aha

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fierypen37 · 5 years

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Virtue a Veil, Vice a Mask: Chapter 5

Another chapter up!

The leagues between King’s Landing and Duskendale passed in the crunch of gravel beneath the horses’ hooves and the warmth of the sun on her shoulders. Ciri’s stride was long and liquid beneath her, Jon low-voiced conversation a deep burr in her ear. He spoke of the beauty of Westeros, remarking on the lands they passed. It was indeed beautiful country, softening into its spring green. Just the two of them beneath a blue sky deep enough to drown in, free and giddy with new love . . . it was a glorious feeling.

Dusk began to settle in rusty orange. Shreds of cloud lazed in the sky like streaks of blood. Hunger rumbled in her belly. Duskendale’s walls glittered in the setting sun, fires ablaze in its towers. A welcome sight for a weary traveler. A whistle trilled in her ear. A low note, then high. Low then high, three times. A smile broke out on her face. She stood in the stirrups, spying the cluster of horses off the kingsroad beneath the shade of an ironoak. She whistled back. From her mount, Missandei waved. Daenerys laughed, joy lifting her heart like a bird on wing.

Jon urged his cob even with her stirrup, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Daenerys?” he asked.

“Peace, Husband. These are my own people. I told you of the confidante and bodyguards who rode with me from Essos? When all was well with your father this morning, I sent a raven for them to ride ahead and meet us on the road.” His scowl was dark as stormclouds. Perhaps he should have been named Stormborn too. His posture relaxed, though the scowl remained.

“Why?” Suspicion was sharp in his voice. Her husband was prone to moods as well. Gods help them when they quarreled. Daenerys nudged his knee with her own, undeterred.

“Mayhap I wanted you all to myself for a time,” she said with a suggestive smile. Jon’s answering smile was like the sun bursting from behind a cloud. Gods, once won his smiles were treasures.

“I quite enjoy having you to myself, my wonder,” he said with a heavy-lidded look that Daenerys felt down to her toes. The giddiness bit deep at the endearment. The words spoke of how he treasured and admired her ‘my wonder,’ ‘wife,’ ‘Dany.’ With a pang, she resolved to find similar words for him. ‘Husband’ was a word spoken as often with dread rather than love, though she found she enjoyed calling Jon so.

“I’ll show you how much at the inn,” she promised huskily. Jon hummed, relaxing back in the saddle.

“Greetings, blood of my blood!” Kovarro hailed in Dothraki.

“Blood of my blood!” Daenerys replied in the same tongue. Daenerys slid off a trotting Ciri with a practiced flick of her leg to greet her people. The gravel of the kingsroad gave way to poky green weeds that the horses cropped. Missandei’s scent of cinnamon washed over her, familiar and comforting as they embraced. It was a boon to have a friend close to her own age, though Missandei was often with her love Grey Worm.

“Hello my friend,” Daenerys whispered, peeling back to cup her cheek fondly.

“Khaleesi,” she replied, amber-brown eyes peeking curiously at Jon. He loomed close to her, his eyes flickering warily over the sturdy bulk of Aggo and Kovarro, and the leaner, sharper strength of Grey Worm.

“My blood, my friends, this is Jon Targaryen. My husband,” she said, first in Dothraki, then again in Common. Shock rippled through the small group. Daenerys bit back a smile. She’d failed to mention that in her raven scroll. Missandei’s eyes flew so wide, her eyes looked like drops of candied honey on a sheet. Grey Worm was the first to recover.

“Husband, Jelmazmo?” he repeated, narrow black eyes looking Jon up and down. An Unsullied sold to Astapori fighting pits when his master gambled away his fortune, Grey Worm became a warrior of some renown. Daenerys bought his freedom, along with several others. To a man, they were fiercely loyal. He was much like the Dothraki who chose to follow her after her dragons hatched, even to the edge of the world and beyond the poison water. Jon’s posture stiffened under Grey Worm’s cool regard.

“Aye, wed this morning in the sept,” Jon said, his tone even. The words were embroidered with an edge, almost . . . jealous. Caught between irritation and amusement, Daenerys sliced her hand in a sharp gesture. A breeze blew in from the sea, bearing the lingering bite of winter. Daenerys shivered. Her thin woolen tunic was scant protection. Westeros was far colder than she expected. So many surprises.

“Enough. We can discuss the hows and whys as we ride,” she said.

Without further protest, the group pointed their mounts towards Duskendale. By turns Jon and Daenerys regaled them with the tale of their meeting—though editing out the details of the bedding—then the meeting with her kin.

“The silver khal’s every breath is an insult to you, khaleesi. You are Mother of Dragons. Let me kill him for you,” Aggo growled, spitting in the dirt.

“Have a care how you speak of my lord father, rider,” Jon said from beside her. The quiet tone belied a well of cold rage. So cold, it raised gooseflesh on her skin. The bite of the North’s ice. An awkward silence fell, broken only by the song of the wind sighing through the trees and the clatter of hoofbeats on the kingsroad. From the tail of her eye, she saw Jon’s knuckles white on the reins.

“Aggo speaks from a place of loyalty. He will do no harm unless I will it so. Is that not true, blood of my blood?” Daenerys said, with some sharpness. Aggo—his black hair salted with white, a gruesome scar slicing down in left cheek—gave a sullen nod.

“As you say, khaleesi,” he said, with a harsh yank on his red’s reins. The silence thawed a little after that. Missandei, bless her, coaxed Jon into conversation with talk of horses and Westeros.

“Winterfell is the ancient seat of the North, built by Brandon the Builder,” Jon said.

“Have you seen the Wall?” Daenerys asked.

“Aye, my Uncle Benjen is First Ranger of the Night’s Watch,” Jon said, his voice tinged with pride. He flicked a horsefly from the neck of his cob. Daenerys warmed at the sight of him in the amber wash of the dying sun, relaxed and so handsome it stole her breath. The evening star winked along the eastern horizon from the murky velvet blue of the sunset sky.

“It is a glorious sight, my wonder. Seven hundred feet of ice and rock. When the sun hits it, it shines as blue as the sky. The haunted forest stretches for leagues north of the Wall.”

“And what lives there?” Missandei asked, alight with curiosity. Jon shared a grin with Daenerys.

“Wildlings mostly, my lady. Though the stories say all sorts of creatures lurk in wilds.”

“‘Creatures?’ What is this word?” Grey Worm asked, masking his interest with an indifferent shrug.

“Monsters. Beasts,” Jon said.

“What sort? I should like to hunt these creatures,” Kovarro said, touching the hilt of his arakh fondly.

“Fearsome things, to hear my uncle tell it. Direwolves large as horses. Bears as white as snow and fierce as death. Giants three times the height of a man,” Jon said with an exaggerated gesture. Even Aggo’s eyes seemed round as a child’s as her husband spoke. A thin smile lurked beneath Kovarro’s patchy beard.

“You are of the same fierce blood, Jon of the Dragon Tent,” he said. “The direwolf is the Stark sigil, yes. They are my mother’s people.”

“A son of wolves and dragons,” Daenerys said. The duck of his curly head was sweet, bashful.

“I would like to take you to Winterfell, my wonder. My lord uncle and his lady wife would receive us with a great feast.” Daenerys saw the hope in his face and felt an ache beneath her breastbone. Her children called her over the leagues separating them. She licked her lips to answer when the guard atop Duskendale’s wall hailed them.

“Who goes there? Name yourselves!”

In peacetime and in spring within a port and trading town, it was an easy thing for her party to enter the city. There were some suspicious looks at the Dothraki, but a couple gold dragons allowed them to enter unmolested. The streets were bustling despite the late hour. Traders in silks and palanquins who waited for no one, artisans who wanted to milk the last drop of the lengthened light, dirty children shrieking and playing. To a man, they all stopped and stared as her party rode by.

It was no small thing for Dothraki to cross the Narrow Sea. Kovarro with his sleek black arakh, Aggo with his whip coiled around his chest made for a fearsome sight, made moreso by their scowling. Grey Worm too made for a fine sight in his scarred leather armor, a plume of red-dyed horsehair waving from the tip of his Unsullied spear.

Daenerys glanced at Jon. He was used to attention from smallfolk, though she doubted it was negative attention, as a beloved prince of Westeros. Relaxed into the sway of his cob, he looked alert and calm. He felt the weight of her gaze and twisted in the saddle.

“Are you well, my wonder?” he asked. Daenerys nudged her silver closer to Jon’s cob and leaned over to take his hand.

“Now I am,” she said. A voice in her head that sound eerily like her aspish brother Viserys sneered she was a besotted fool. Jon’s smile was well worth it.

Jon led the way into the inn, the Seven Swords. The innkeep was a rail-thin man of middling years, stroking his salted black beard nervously.

“Beggin’ your pardon, my prince, but these lot can’t be mucking about, my other patrons, you see . . .”

“My wife’s men will behave themselves, Master Waters, I promise you,” Jon said, flicking a silver stag in his direction. Daenerys saw the fear stark in the innkeep’s eyes as Aggo ducked under the lintel to enter the common room.

“We shall need meat and beer, three of your best rooms and stalls for our mounts,” Jon continued, leading her to a cozy booth by the hearth. A bard played pipes in the corner. The half dozen other patrons watched with frank curiosity as their group crammed into the booth.

Serving women hovered and in due course platters and jugs were dropped before them with trembling hands. The fare was rich and plentiful: creamy crab stew, mutton chops still sizzling with butter and roasted onions, dark brown bread, beer and water and a crumbly apple tart made from the first of the spring crop. Daenerys’ mouth filled with water. It was all she could do to remember tidy manners. Amongst her Essosi, the mutton and stew were welcomed, though Kovarro refused to swallow the beer.

“Weak milk men water. I will give you a man’s drink once we reach Pentos, Jon of the Dragon Tent.”

Jon gulped his beer without demur, sharing a glance with her. Daenerys nudged his shoulder with her own. The beer was unobjectionable, cold and bitter to her tongue.

“Aye?” Jon asked, wiping his mouth on his cuff, “and what is a man’s drink in Essos?”

“The Dothraki prefer fermented mare’s milk. It’s . . . chewy,” Daenerys said with a moue of distaste. Jon snorted into his cup.

“I . . . look forward to trying it,” Jon said manfully between coughing and sputtering.

To Daenerys’ delight, the initial discomfiture of meeting loosened over the course of the meal. Full bellies went a long way towards easing distrust. Jon scooped a drooping bite of apple tart onto his fork and offered it to her. Daenerys smiled and accepted the bite, allowing a dribble of cream to speckle her chin. The apple tart was delicious, the crust flaky, the cream and apple both sweet and tart. Jon’s dark eyes gleamed, an avid lustful glow. Daenerys dabbed the cream from her chin with her napkin. Missandei’s knowing smile caught her eye, and Daenerys flushed. Here she was mooning like a lovesick girl over her new husband.

“I will seek ship to Pentos at dawn, Jelmazmo,” Grey Worm said, unfolding from the booth and offering a hand to Missandei as their meal ended. Daenerys chewed on her lower lip. A glance over her shoulder found Jon deep in conversation with the innkeep.

“Perhaps wait until we break our fast, Grey Worm. I must discuss our plans with my husband.”

“As you say,” Grey Worm said with a slight bow.

Upstairs, the Seven Swords offered a hearth and a modest four-poster bed, canopied in moth-eaten hunter green linen. A boy laid wood into the hearth and set it alight with a deft flick of the striker.

“Evenin’ m’lady. M’lord,” he said, skipping to the door and shutting it behind him. With a gusty sigh, Jon loosened the tongue of his swordbelt.

“A fine supper.”

“Yes, it was.” An awkward silence fell between them. Limned in the fire’s wash of gold, Jon looked much as he had last night. Young and devastatingly handsome, open and honest. It was a man’s honest lust in his eyes tempered by that soft, worshipful look. A knot rose in her throat. Jon closed the distance between them and tugged her into an embrace.

“Tolerate my lingering, my wonder. There are moments when I still don’t believe you’re real,” Jon whispered. Daenerys nestled against him with a sigh.

“How are you so wonderful?” she asked, cradling his face between her hands. A tilt of her chin caught his lips in a kiss sweet as summer. The passion kindled after the pleasant torture of their shared meal. His mouth tasted of beer and apples. A firm pinch on her buttocks made her squeak. Giggling, Daenerys retaliated by untying his trouser laces. She felt the hard shape of his cock trapped in its cruel leather prison.

“Wait . . . wait, Jon. We need to talk. We need to talk,” Daenerys said. Gods above, it was sorcery how he could rob her of her sense! Her husband’s husky laugh made heat pool between her thighs, that now-familiar liquid ache. Jon teased the shell of her ear with a grazing touch of his tongue. His warm breath fluttered her hair.

“We can talk after.”

“But--”

“After, my love. Please,” he crooned, worming one warm hand beneath her tunic to cup her breast. Daenerys gave in to his gentle tug towards the bed. Daenerys sat and bent to remove her boots. Jon stopped her, kneeling at her feet. Bracing his hands on her knees, he gave her a glancing, sensuous kiss. Daenerys chased the magic of his mouth as he pulled back. The only sound was the fire crackling to itself, and beyond, fainter thuds from taproom below.

“It’s been half the day, my love. I need to taste you. I need to love you,” he said. Daenerys nearly whimpered, remembering in vivid detail the heat and hunger of their interlude on the road. His strength stole her breath, his passion melted her. It was so sweet . . . and so dangerous. With gentle hands, he undressed her, peeling off trousers and tunic and smallclothes much as he had peeled away layers of mental armor. A determined vine growing into the mortar of her defenses.

Sinking her fingers into a handful of his hair, Daenerys pulled him close for a kiss. Jon’s low hum of approval vibrated against her lips. She lost herself in the give and take, the soft lash of tongue, the eager dance of lips. Her heartbeat thudded loud in her ears. Jon’s hands smoothed over her, back and buttocks, belly and breast. Gentle, but proprietary. Mine. Mine, he said. Daenerys wormed her hand into his sagging trousers, reveling in the heat and hardness of his cock. Jon clutched her close, gasping as she pumped.

“Dany,” he wheezed. Fluid wept from the flushed head of his cock, Daenerys’ mouth watered at the sight.

“You’re. Wearing. Too many. Clothes,” she said, punctuating each word with an open-mouthed kiss on his neck.

“Gods,” he said, shrugging out of his tunic and staggering out of his trousers and boots. Grinning, Daenerys danced out of his reach. Jon’s eyes flashed, and he dove, pinning her beneath him on the bed. Daenerys whimpered at the hot weight of his cock throbbing against her hip. She squirmed, breath catching in her throat as he pinned her wrists. A cold fingernail scraped up her spine. Khal Drogo’s shade. Hard, rough hands and the pain. Over and over again. Jon’s voice coaxed her back.

“Dany? Are you well, love?” the pucker of his brow endeared her. Daenerys craned her head to kiss him. Mm, yes that sweet magic of kissing him. Warm melting pleasure at the stroke of his tongue. Her Jon. Husband, love. The fear was a fading thought as yearning throbbed between her thighs.

“Jon . . .” she whispered. She drowned in the sweet dark grey of his eyes, warm with concern, soft with love.

“Are you--” he moved to release her wrists.

“No, leave it. I like it,” Daenerys purred, testing the warm clasp of his hands around her wrists. There was something delicious about being willingly restrained. His to do with what he wished. Mmm, yes. Jon’s smile was wicked as sin.

“I do as well. Very . . . rousing,” he said, barely grazing her throat with his tongue. Pleasure was a subtle shiver. Daenerys arched in his grip, yearning for the press of his weight. He held himself above with easy strength.

“Close your eyes,” Jon whispered. Words as soft as silk with the steel of command. Daenerys obeyed.

Warm amber patterns moved across her inner vision. Gods, he’d barely kissed her and her cunt ached with yearning. It hadn’t taken her dear husband long to find his feet. Jon’s curls were a delicate touch, tickling as he craned his head down. Daenerys whimpered at the sudden suckle on her pert nipple. The cool flutter of his breath, the lap of his tongue. Sensations were sudden and all to brief. A kiss here, a nibble of teeth there. Leaving her wet and squirming. His name fell from her lips in a begging litany. Part of her felt shamed by her naked need, but the soul of her rejoiced. Love and pleasure were heady delights after so long alone.

Jon nudged her thighs apart with his knee. Daenerys clenched and rubbed against the hairy hardness of his thigh, desperate for friction. Jon growled.

“Gods, you’re so wet. Stay still or I will tie you down. Hear me?” he said. Daenerys nodded eagerly, gripping the upper edge of the mattress. Gods, if these were the bed games he wished to play, there may not be anything coherent left of her in a moon’s turn.

“Let me look at you, husband. Please,” she whispered. A moment of silence answered her, with the faint crackle of the fire.

“Open your eyes, my wonder,” he said. Kneeling naked between her thighs and washed in golden firelight, Jon stole her breath. A wild thing of strong muscle and darkfire eyes. The thrill of eye contact was heady. Jon licked his lips.

“Oh yes, I love those beautiful eyes. Watch me.” He settled between her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders. Daenerys strained toward him, the puff of his breath almost too much to bear. The first lick over her pearl burst red stars behind her eyes. He uttered a snarl, eyes pools of black.

“Gods, yes,” he said, spreading her wider. He dove in.

Daenerys clung to handfuls of the mattress, her only anchor in the lashing, licking, maelstrom of pleasure. The tension gathered and she was flung high. He caught her, murmuring love words in that deep, northern-accented voice. His tongue and fingers lashed her into a frenzy, tears leaking from her eyes as he urged to one release and then another. Limp and trembling, she whimpered at the press of his weight, his hard cock nudging her entrance.

“Jon . . . Jon,” she said hoarsely, dragging him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his beard. Her hands smoothed over the sweat-damp strength of his back, cupping the curve of his arse. Jon grunted, framing her face between his hands, petting her temple with his thumbs.

“Sshh, sshh. Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful when you let go.”

“Your turn, my love. Come here,” Daenerys said, maddened by the feel of his cockhead teasing her. Jon flexed his hips, sheathing himself inside her with one smooth stroke.

“So good. You feel so good,” she whispered. Jon pressed his forehead to hers. A bashful smile touched kiss-reddened lips.

“I—I spilled on the sheets watching you. I don’t think--” The words roused Daenerys more than she cared to admit. She busied herself with petting his wild hair. What should she say to soothe his masculine pride?

“D—Do you want to stop?” she asked. Jon stilled his restless half-thrusting.

“Are you sore? I can--”

“No. Not at all,” Daenerys said, draping a leg over his thigh to keep him close. The delicious pressure of his cock inside her made her toes curl, “You feel so good inside me.”

Jon hummed in agreement, taking up a slow, gentle rhythm. Lazily, they moved together, touching and kissing. The pleasure was sweet, without urgency. Sometime later, he slipped out. Jon laid his head on her chest.

“Mmm, this is nice,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. Daenerys’s heart gave a sharp lurch in her chest. Jon’s open, generous heart made her melt.

“Yes it is.” It wasn’t long until his breathing evened and he drifted off to sleep on her chest. Daenerys nestled happily in his embrace. Tomorrow’s troubles could wait.

#fp37fic #masque!fic #Targaryen!Jon #citrus

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iamwickedlovely · 6 years

Text

Michael Langdon x Reader (Forbidden Love), Part 2

Warning: May contain foul language, and sexual content. Rated M for mature.

Requested from: @del-rcys

Genre: Romance | Drama | Horror

Synopsis: This story is about you, as a reader, and Michael Langdon (AHS: Apocalypse). You have met Michael some years ago, before the Apocalypse happened, in a coven. The location was taken place in Romania, at the moment, in a gothic setting, such as a castle. You were meant to be the new supreme, and the powers you possessed were beyond great - that consisted of love and beauty, and you were curious by nature. Eventually, Langdon, including you, fell in love. That love turned into pure bliss and desire. With every love story, comes with a tragedy, unfortunately. At least, this one, in particular. There were rumors spreading across the coven that a witch hunter was spotted. This hunter was very dangerous, and caused harm and havoc between Michael and you. Soon, you fell pregnant, and weird, dark visions and dreams came along with it. Eventually you understood Langdon was known as the Antichrist, and you two were separated, because he was casted out for satanic situations. Eventually, you were hung, because you were supposed have no sexual relations with Michael, but the others found out since you carried his child. After you passed away, this angered Langdon to cause mayhem to the coven. Darkness crept in your soul that was left behind, and eventually fell into the dark arts, mostly to find a way to come back to life, so you can reunite with your beloved Michael, and have your child with you both. It wasn't until years later, at the Outpost 3, that things finally turned the tables around. You, as a reader, will eventually find that out.

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Second part of the story, Forbidden Love. I will continue to write more, thank you everyone! You guys are awesome! 💜

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[Continued]

Michael Langdon x Reader (Forbidden Love) [Flashback, Part 2]

[Present day in Outpost 3]

Michael Langdon kept himself busy by trying to distrupt the minds of the current residents in Outpost 3, trying hard to get a firm grasp on their hidden darkness they never let out in the open. How he enjoyed manipulating humans and playing with their minds like instrument, it was just so easy for him to do. He liked getting under their skin, witnessing them fill with nerves and worry.

A girl named Mallory. someone who wore thick, black framed glasses, was in the room with Michael for a discussion. She looked a little scared by his superior movements as she sat on a sofa, just so she could feel cornered by the guy. She tried to let her steady gaze on him, even though she desperately wanted to leave already.

Michael strolled around the room slowly, and kept watch on her. He talked very seriously, trying to get her to fess up, "I can see into the dark places that people desperately keep hidden."

What? She wondered, keep cool and collective. "I don't have any dark places."

He stared hard on her in disbelief. His hands went behind his back, while his lip twitched in a slight snarl. Time to interrogate her, he thought. He will get what he wanted out of this meeting. He spoke sternly, "Really? So, even though you worked for Coco for many years, and saved your life after the bombs fell," he paused, "Why do I believe you'd love nothing more than to pick up anything sharp enough to cut and slice her down to the bone?" He inched closer to Mallory in an attempt to have her squirm.

She stared up at him, eyes beginning to fill in freight, she felt so small on the sofa now. He tried getting under her skin, she figured it out. Just continue to keep cool and collective, she thought to herself. Michael wouldn't get what he wanted to hear from her. Instead, her answer was clearly not what he expected. Despite the fact Coco would order Mallory for absurd orders, such as wiping herself since her nails were still damp. Mallory confirmed she didn't want to kill her, and Coco needed her, because the woman was helpless. Michael couldn't help, but feel a tad disappointed. So, he had to push further, there must be something dark, he thought.

For a moment, she seemed puzzled, on the 'dark places' topic. Her eyes observed him cautiously, as she tried to not talk what was on her mind. She gulped, when Michael turned his back to her. He pondered, because he knew she wanted to ask him something.

"Dark place? I don't understand," Mallory's hands folded together on her lap, and she went on, "I thought the cooperative wasn't looking for something," she paused, and breathed sharply, "Evil."

He turned around, unhurriedly, to face her, "So, you had the notion that I was looking for people who are pure of heart, unblemished, and purely white?" He walked to her, and kneeled himself and look fixedly on her face. His hands were on each side of the sofa, as he expressed what he wanted, "Tsk, Mallory, I want a world with the seven commandments, it's all hypocritical bullshit, anyway. I am looking for people who wouldn't just eat the fruit of the forbidden tree, but who'd cut the fucking tree down and burn it for fire wood.," The corners of his mouth perked up in a sinister smile. One of his hands gently placed on hers, like a spider trapping a butterfly, "I think you were made for that world." His other hand reached to stroke her cheek using the back of a few folded fingers. He murmured softly, "I sense it in you."

Unfortunately to his distaste, he still didn't get what he wanted out of Mallory. The girl did let him know something, however, that she felt someone was trying to claw her way out of her, someone who was buried deep inside. She started to have a streak of a few tears roll down her cheek, and Michael took this as a sign that she's scared. She was absolutely terrified, especially by him.

"I want to leave," she ordered, while feeling panicked by her sudden outburst that's ready to explode. She stood off the couch, and quickly aimed to the door without looking back on Michael. Something wasn't right with him, something was off about him, she repeatedly thought.

Michael rushed to her in anticipation, and grasped her arm into his hands forcefully, "No. We're not done here. I am giving you the chance to survive, Mallory."

The next thing that happened was very unexpected. She shouted at him, "Let me go!" With that, a surge of power went out from her, not only having objects fly backward, or the fire intensifying harshly in a fire place, but he was pushed backwards. It caught him off guard. His face trembled in a terrified reaction, and he expressed it very well. He stood up and straightened himself, and kept his eyes on her, and flashed his true, demonic face, and then it abruptly went back to the handsome features that could seduce anyone. More fire sparked from Mallory, and he asked, his eyes widened, "Who are you?"

She had enough, and she didn't even understand what had just happened in that room, but she took it as her ticket to finally leave, "I don't know. Who are you?" She did ponder over that. She turned away fast, and jogged a little away from the room.

His eyes darted to the door, he needed air. He needed to talk to his father, because hail Satan, but first, his feet led him to his bedroom chamber to calm himself, even if it was a little. Once he reached to his safe haven, he analyzed the room, steadying his breath. There it is, he thought. His gaze pressed on a painting of [y/n], he couldn't let it go, because deep down, he knew he will get her back in his arms. He desperately wanted to kiss the sweet lips, and embrace her in his arms. The painting was exquisite, elegant, even. It was precious to him. He stared longingly, tracing every detail. She was wearing a velvet, Gothic, purple cloak, kind of Elvish, with a hood covering the head. The [y/h/c] framed the face perfectly. Her hands were in the front, holding a black cat, and there were a few black candles beside I the painting, that almost looked like it flickered. For a moment, he thought he was seeing things, since a little boy appeared in replace of the cat. He looked like [y/n] and himself as well. Michael closed his eyes, and reopened them. The boy was gone. How odd.

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[Flashback]

[y/n] couldn't sleep in her bedroom one night, because she was in deep thought. No use in trying to sleep, she sighed and let herself get out of bed. The room she was in was inside a castle, since that was where the coven stayed in. The surroundings felt eerie. Occasionally a crow would greet her outside, landing on a gargoyle to caw, as if it was speaking to her. She walked up to a glass window, and opened them to take in the night sky. It was beautiful, the moon was full, and shined brightly, it's light masked the yard that carried a little garden with red and white roses, a pond that had a couple of swans in it (she called it Swan Lake because of that), and a cemetery nearby. She loved the scenery, but something was missing. She wanted to see Michael Langdon, and as if he read her mind. He appeared underneath the window sill. It was almost similar to Romeo and Juliet. Despite her love for romance and Shakespeare, she figured this was a bit sappy, even for Michael.

Michael found her face in the window, so he called up so she could listen, "[y/n], my fair lady, shall I come to you? I could not sleep, I must see you."

[y/n]'s eyebrow quirked up, and she breathed heavily, resting her chin on her palm on the window sill, "O' Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" She giggled playfully, "Please come up, Michael, there is vines you could climb." She waited eagerly.

He shook his head, and muttered quietly to himself, "This is so fucking unlike me," but he went along with it, and she was right. There was a wooden post with vines going up to her window, it seemed like it was alright to climb on. So, he did just that, he was being careful about it, since there was some roses and thorns. However, one of the sharp thorns pricked him and drew out some blood from his middle finger. It didn't seem to phase him, though, but it still hurt. Once he reached the window and climbed over the ledge, [y/n] greeted him by wrapping arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

The noses of the two touched and snuggled together, then Michael's forehead pressed on hers, and he inhaled and exhaled evenly, "I've missed you," he brushed his lips on [y/n] passionately.

She gave out a sweet smile, gazing up at his blue, icy eyes, "I've missed you, too." She felt a little undressed, since she was only wearing a gown. Her nose nuzzled at Michael's side of the neck, and teased him a little by rubbing her thigh against his. She had something wicked in mind, that may benefit the two.

Michael's eyes narrowed, "Hmm, someone's in a mood," he went to her ear and bit on the earlobe to tug it, he growled. His hands moved freely towards her buttocks, and picked her up rather easily, heading towards her bed.

Her legs wrapped around his hips to maintain the position so she wouldn't fall, and one of her hands played with his blonde hair, combing out strands. The touch made her excited, it was so soft, even his skin was soft, and a bit cool. Her other hand cupped his cheek, and she planted a kiss on his lips.

Once they reached the bed, Michael propped her up, and she kept watch on him with the desire to make love to him. He decided to throw a little strip show for her, first, with taking his belt off first, then his trousers, jacket and shirt, and whatever was left. Soon, he kneeled in front of her, and helped on getting the gown off over her head. The clothes were pretty scattered on the floor, but not too messy. He traced every curve on her body, what a fine, young woman, he automatically moved his fingers to touch the soft skin. He cupped one of her breasts with his palm and squeezed it gently. This action led her to moan. It felt good to her. His mouth reached to her other breast and began to suck on the nipple, occasionally taking a few nibbles on the nipples, gently, but playfully.

While he did that, she arched her back, and her hands hovered over his hair, stroking along, but she started to feel inpatient. She wanted him inside of her.

Michael had her lay down, so he could be on top of her. He had her head lay on pillows, and soon, his fingers went to her tender area down below, so he could cup on it. Then, he pressed on it, as well with rubbing the clit to get started on the love making. He inserted two fingers inside, and started to pull them in and out, scissoring a few times. He was trying to get [y/n] lubricated enough.

She squirmed below him, but not too much, and she did let out a moan, "Michael," she murmured. She started to feel excited, and she bucked her lips a little. She craved him, so much. She needed this to happen.

He enjoyed seeing her reaction. He realized he was the one in control of this situation, and that made him feel delighted, just as much as the woman in front of him. He pulled out his fingers, since she's now ready, and his member throbbed. He was hard, turned on by her presence. He moved upward, positioning his member to your area, and his hands pressed on each side of your shoulders. He entered, not too hard, because he didn't want to hurt you, but enough to send them both to groan with lust. He pushed down by bucking his hips, trying to get in deeper, and she squealed in delight.

He panted, and started to move his member upward, then down, trying to find a good motion to make the situation pleasurable. [y/n] hands moved across his bare chest. Disbelief filled her, she was his, and him hers. She straddled his hip, bucking upward, and one of her hands reached around the nape of his neck, so she could pull him down to kiss the tender lips, thirstily.

Michael brushed her lips, more than once, and made trails of that across your jaw, and chin. His pace began to quicken, harder and faster. Pumping into her, desperate for a wonderful release.

She moaned, and called out to him, "Oh, hell yes! Michael! Harder! Oh, ah," she started to get filled below. Her hands clenched the bedsheets when she felt him pushing in and out harder now. Her eyelids closed, and a few tears began to stroll down her cheek, she whispered, her eyes opened to look into his, while her fingers touched his cheek in an embrace, "I love you, Michael Langdon."

He thrusted in her one last time, and the two finally reached the climax. His seed was very well deep inside her now, no turning back. She was officially claimed. He kissed her with sheer force, and he whispered, "I love you, too, [y/n]." His lips pressed on her ear, he growled and said, "You are mine. Anyone else who tries to steal you from me, they will wish they were never fucking born."

#michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #cody fern fanfiction #ahs apocalypse #ahs #ahs: apocalypse #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story: apocalypse #american horror story #gifs is not mine

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wandlores · 6 years

Text

Time’s Up

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Ron Weasley Words: 3,152 You can also read this on AO3. This is for the @hprarepairnet and @slytherdornet Autumn Challenge and the @slytheringirlsgang Halloween Challenge! Note: Dedicated to @bourbonrain for giving me an amazing prompt! I had so much fun writing this. x

Pansy didn't give a shit about honor, but to her father, it was important. She also didn't give a shit about commoners, but apparently they were important to her father, too.

King Parkinson was unlike the rest of his ruling line. Pansy seemed to take after her great grandfather. She was selfish, she was cunning, and she was ambitious. She would find a way to her throne. She did not care if she was a woman. It would happen, and she would prove to her father that she was worthy. Even if it meant playing a game. She knew her father wasn't against a woman being in power, but he was against her being in power.

But on the night before Halloween, he gave her a proposition.

He asked her to meet him in his chambers. She was already in her dressing gowns and highly annoyed that he would even think to disrupt her, but he was the King. What he said went. So she followed her handmaiden Millicent through the dark stone hallways and pulled her cloak close to her chest as she muttered obscenities under her breath.

When she entered her father's chambers, she saw the portrait of her mother. She looked away from it quickly. It brought up too many feelings, and feelings were a sign of weakness. Vulnerability was not allowed when you were a royal, even though her father tried to argue otherwise.

Her father looked up directly at her from his writing desk. She noticed a small smirk playing at his lips. She didn't like it.

"Millicent, please leave us," he told her handmaiden, "I will make sure my daughter gets back to her chambers safely tonight after our discussion."

"Yes, my lord."

Pansy rolled her eyes as Millicent bowed and quickly ran out of her father's chambers. She would do anything to ignore her father's lingering gaze.

"What can I do for you, father?" Pansy finally asked.

She picked at her nails to avoid eye contact.

"Please," her father offered, "Sit down and join me. This could be a long discussion."

Pansy looked up from her nails and perked her brow in suspicion. He never wanted to have long discussions with her. He usually knew they went nowhere. She was too stubborn.

Curiously, Pansy walked over to the chair her father was offering her and took a seat.

Her father took a drink from his goblet and set it down gently. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

"I do not trust you to take my place at the throne when you come of age-"

"Are we having this discussion again, father?" She asked him, "I do not need to hear anoth-"

"You need to learn patience, Pansy. I have not finished what I was about to say."

Pansy rolled her eyes. She knew what he was about to say. It wouldn't make a difference, but she shut her mouth anyway.

"I was going to say, I might if you take up this offer I am going to give you."

Pansy's ears perked up.

"Like a proposition? I thought you were not into those, father."

"I am not usually, but I have realized over the years that you are just like my grandfather. He had to have a challenge to take anything seriously, so I might as well play along."

Pansy smirked, "I did not know that you were capable of scheming, my lord. I will say I am intrigued."

Her father chuckled, "Well, now that I have your attention, I will bring Lady McGonagall inside."

He turned to his guard Sir Potter and nodded. Sir Potter then turned his body to open the chamber's doors.

Lady McGonagall walked in wearing her normal attire. An emerald green velvet gown and silver spectacles. Pansy always thought she was dreadfully plain, but she did not dare mess with the lady. She had strict rules in their library, and she was always willing to punish the princess during their lessons if she went out of line. Her father had given her permission. Lady McGonagall's mind was sharp, but her tongue was sharper.

"Princess Pansy," Lady McGonagall curtsied, "I am glad you stayed long enough for this meeting. I have to say I am surprised."

Pansy scoffed, and she watched her father grin from the corner of her eye before spoke.

"Lady McGonagall, I am so happy you could join us at this late hour. Please take a seat."

She bowed her head and took a seat next to Pansy. Like usual, Pansy tried to avoid all eye contact.

"As I was saying," the King continued, "If you take up this offer I am about to propose, you will have a chance at the throne. But only if you succeed."

"What's the proposition?"

He leaned back in his chair, and Pansy noticed that Lady McGonagall sat up straighter in her's as though she was expecting a disaster.

"You will attend the commoners Masquerade Ball tomorrow night to celebrate Halloween and learn to care for a commoner. If you can do this, then you can have the throne."

Pansy snorted, "Is that all? I just have to be nice to a commoner?"

"Being nice for your own selfish desires is different than caring from your heart, Princess," Lady McGonagall interjected, "And we will have a way of knowing if you are genuine."

"How?"

Lady McGonagall smiled like she had power. It made Pansy's skin crawl.

"Magic," she said simply.

Pansy's eyes turned wide, "But father, I thought you hated-"

"I do not condone most witchcraft, but I trust Lady McGonagall with my life. She has never used witchcraft for evil."

"Yo-you're a witch?" Pansy stuttered.

Lady McGonagall nodded, "My powers have been passed down through generations. We always use them to aid the King in times of peril. But for now, I only use them for simple tasks. I mostly like to focus on my books and mind."

"What's the catch?" Pansy asked seriously, "You are not going to make this easy, father."

Her father knotted his finger's together and leaned forward. He motioned for Sir Potter to do something again. Pansy turned around to see that he had picked up a pumpkin from her father's bed and was bringing it over to his writing desk.

"This, is a pumpkin," he said simply, "And it will stay a pumpkin if you fail."

"How does this impact me?"

Lady McGonagall piped up, "It impacts you, because that is your beloved Draco."

Pansy's eyes went wide and she stood up quickly from her chair.

"You cannot do this!" Pansy cried, "His parents will start a war over this! We just ended a war!"

"Only if you fail," her father explained, "I expect you not to fail. Especially if you are interested in taking the throne and marrying your beloved Draco Malfoy."

Fuming, Pansy's hands turned to fists. But she took a deep breath and released them. She calmly sat back down and seriously asked, "How do I learn to care for a commoner in one night? Must I love them?"

"Love is not a requirement, but genuine empathy is," her father explained, "All you have ever shown me is selfishness and true disdain towards commoners. These are the people you would be ruling. I need you to show me that you can do what is right and best for them."

Pansy sighed.

"So," Lady McGonagall asked, "Are you taking your father's offer?"

"Yes," Pansy replied. She would do anything for the throne.

Her father smiled.

"Good," Lady McGonagall explained, "But you will need to follow some rules. You must not tell the commoners who you are, that is why the ball has been arranged to be masquerade. They must think you are one of them and you must learn to see like one of them. Also, you will need to complete the task by midnight. If you cannot genuinely empathize and care for a commoner during that time-frame, your beloved Draco will permanently be in his current pumpkin state. Do you accept the terms?"

"Yes," said Pansy through gritted teeth, "May I go now, father?"

Her father got up from his chair and offered her his arm, "Of course, my daughter. I will escort you back to your chambers."

They bid farewell to Lady McGonagall as Sir Potter opened the chamber doors for them to exit.

They walked down the castle halls in silence for a few moments until Pansy dared to ask, "If you think I'm so selfish, how do you think I will succeed?"

Her father answered immediately, "I do not think you are inherently selfish, Pansy. You never were as a little girl. Just ever since your mother died-"

"I do not want to talk about her."

"All I am trying to interject is that you are capable. You just need to learn to accept vulnerability."

"Vulnerability is for the weak."

They stopped in front of her chamber's door, "Only childish Princesses say that, not Queens."

Pansy looked down at the ground and blinked a few times. All she wanted to do right now was avoid her father's gaze. But he cupped her cheek and pulled her attention back up to his.

"Vulnerability is not weakness, my daughter. It is strength, and if you practice that tomorrow, you will be a worthy Queen. I have faith in you. I always have."

After that, he left her alone in front of her door. Pansy stood there for what seemed like hours before entering her chambers. She was not sure if she was capable of this task, but the throne depended on it. And Pansy was not used to failure.

Pansy tossed and turned the whole night. She was beyond nervous, and that was unlike Pansy. But the day passed by fast as Millicent readied her for the ball.

Before leaving her chambers for her carriage. She caught sight of herself in her mirror. Her long black hair was pinned to the top of her head, and she wore a crimson gown that sparkled every time the light hit it. Her mask was black with jewels, and it made her green eyes pop. She was unrecognizable as the princess. Millicent made sure of that, but she oddly felt like herself in a new form. Pansy swallowed that feeling down.

Lady McGonagall and King Parkinson greeted her as she made her way down to her carriage. Sir Potter opened the door for her, and Pansy considered not saying a word to either of them, but her father spoke up.

"Good luck, Pansy. I hope you genuinely succeed."

"Put your mind to the task, Princess," Lady McGonagall added, "You can do anything if you allow yourself to feel."

"Thank you," Pansy said curtly. But she curtsied to her father and then entered her carriage to leave for the ball.

The carriage her father chose was very plain and fit in with the commoners. They would have no idea that a royal was attending their ball.

As they pulled up to the local town hall, Pansy took a deep breath. She snorted to herself as she noticed some of the commoners outfits, but she was then distracted by a crowd of red hair.

She realized quickly it was a family all coming to the ball. Their mother was plump and their father was lanky. They looked as though they did not have a dime to their name. Their masks were clearly made from home rather than at the tailors, and their dressing gowns were years old. These would be her perfect subjects, she realized, but she had no idea how she could genuinely empathize with people like them.

She stepped out of her carriage and nodded for her driver to leave her. As her carriage pulled away, she picked up her gown and began to walk into the building.

Deep in thought, she did not realize the family of redheads had stopped in front her. She ran straight into one of the sons.

"Hey, watch where-" She started, but her words were cut short when he turned around and their eyes met.

His eyes were ridiculously blue. The type of blue found in men's eyes that were described in Lady McGonagall's classic romance literature. Pansy was taken aback.

"Sorry, miss," he said, "I did not see you there."

Pansy cleared her throat. Her palms started to sweat. What was this feeling?

"It-it is alright," she told him, "I was just clumsy and not looking where I was going."

He smiled at her calmly and now offered her his arm. She realized his family had already gone inside.

"May I escort you inside?" He asked her, but then he quickly realized what had came out of his mouth and his cheeks turned red. "I mean, only if you want me to. I do not mean that I would be your escort, we just met, I just mean-"

He was awkward and not well-spoken. He was definitely a commoner, but Pansy swallowed down the blunt comments she so desperately wanted to spew.

"You may escort me," Pansy said vaguely, "I have come alone anyway."

The boy looked surprised as Pansy took his arm.

His arm was firmer than she was expecting. He was tall and lanky like his father, but she realized he must be a farmer. His skin was rough and his arms were strong. He had been working all his life, and he could not be more than seventeen like she was. She suddenly wondered what his life had always been like.

As they entered the hall, musicians played a familiar tune. It was one of Pansy's mother's favorites.

"This was my mother's favorite song," Pansy told him suddenly, "She used to love hearing it played."

"Used to?" The boy asked.

Pansy gulped.

"My-my mother passed away when I was young," she confessed, "I haven't heard it played since."

The boy turned red again and stuttered, "I-I am so sorry. I overstepped."

"No," Pansy told him honestly, "It is fine, it is actually good to talk about her."

"My brother passed away in the war," the boy told her in return, "He was barely of age. His name was Fred. He was a twin. It was hardest on George."

"I'm so sorry," Pansy said genuinely, "I cannot imagine."

The boy looked down, and she realized she had still not let go of his arm. She considered letting it go now and maybe mingling with others, but she had to ask him something.

"I must know," she started, "What is your name?"

"I'm Ronald Weasley," he told her, "The sixth son in my family."

The sixth son. He had no rank. He would never have rank. Even if his family ended up with a fortune.

"Do you have any siblings?" He asked her curiously.

"No," she told him, "I do not."

"It is hard sometimes, being the sixth son. It does not leave me with a lot of options, even though I am a man. I cannot be like my little sister and marry into wealth easily since I should provide it to my bride, but I will not receive the little money my parents have to their name. But that is the life of a commoner, especially when you are a farmer. You have to have enough hands to provide."

Pansy had guessed correctly, he was a farmer. But that did not seem to matter to her anymore. All she knew was she wanted to ask him more. And so she did. She asked him questions as they danced, he introduced her to his family, he even took her for a stroll. It was then that the clock struck midnight, and the truth hit Pansy like a ton of bricks. She had no idea if she had succeeded.

She watched from the corner of her eye as her carriage arrived, and that is when she noticed Ronald looking up the hill towards her home. The castle was beautiful at night, she couldn't blame him.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be royal?" He asked her.

She was about to come up with some easy lie, but he started talking again before she could respond.

"If I was royal, I would do everything I could for commoners. King Parkinson tries his best, but I worry he does not do enough. I also worry the next in his line will not have the same honor he has had as he has ruled us. A royal should help others. What is the point of all that power if you cannot use it for good?"

Pansy knew he was mainly talking to himself, but she still answered him honestly, "I do not know."

He turned to face her. He smiled down at her, and Pansy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She knew it was time to go and check on Draco; she knew it was time to see if she had succeeded. She just did not want to leave yet. Ronald Weasley was just too intriguing. But this was not her reality. Reality was waiting for her back home.

"Well, my time's up," Pansy told him, "My carriage is here, and my father will be expecting me home soon. It was nice meeting you Ronald Weasley."

She was not sure what she expected to happen next, but she curtsied to him and turned to leave. As she started to walk away, she heard him call, "Wait! I forgot to ask, what is your name?"

Pansy stopped in her tracks and blinked a few times. She contemplated ignoring him, but she could not do that. So she turned around and replied, "Pansy, like the Princess. It is a weird coincidence."

She expected him to put two and two together, but he didn't. Or if he did, he didn't let her know it. She figured it would be outrageous for him to think she was the true princess. Maybe he did not even care. All she knew was that she technically broke a rule.

"Well," he told her, "I hope to see you soon, Pansy."

She smiled and told him confidently, "You will."

She wasn't sure how or when she would see him again; she just knew she would.

Pansy arrived home after midnight and took a deep breath as Sir Potter opened the door to her father's chamber. When she walked inside, she saw Draco sitting at the edge of her father's bed looking confused. She had done it.

Once her father came around the corner, Draco noticed her presence. He shot her an arrogant smile; the one Pansy adored. But it no longer made her feel the same way. All she could think about was the Weasley boy's eyes.

She had won the throne, she realized, but she had won something more important.

The power to do something good.

83 notes · View notes

moozixxx-blog · 5 years

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오반 (OVAN) - 진짜를 꺼내봐 (For Real) MV - YouTube

유카리(Yukari) - Hang on - YouTube

유카리(Yukari) - Just friends - YouTube

유카리(Yukari) - Lass (Single) 2015.8.22 - YouTube

이달의 소녀 1/3 - Into the New Heart (Guitar by 김정모 of TRAX) - YouTube

이달의 소녀 오드아이써클 (LOONA/ODD EYE CIRCLE) - 01. Add [Max & Match] - YouTube

제로 JERO - 비행기 Airplane (feat. 기리보이 Giriboy) Official M/V - YouTube

좋겠어 (If I) - LOCO (feat. Gray) [ENG SUB / HANGEUL] - YouTube

티파니 (TIFFANY) – I Just Wanna Dance (Kago Pengchi Remix) [English ver.] - YouTube

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하우스 룰즈 (House Rulez) - Feel Good (Girl Ver.) (Feat. 김호연 & Steeb) - YouTube

하우스 룰즈 (House Rulez) - Feel Good (Man Ver.) (Feat. Steeb & 김호연) - YouTube

하우스룰즈 - A Night Like This ft.Jinryang Toyokawa - YouTube

ナニダトnanidato - Disco Lady 『ディスコレディ』 - YouTube

ゆるふわギャング (Yurufuwa Gang) "Palm Tree" - YouTube

任然 - 空空如也『曾經笑容燦爛，如今卻空空如也...』【動態歌詞Lyrics】 - YouTube

八王子P「Beautiful Nightmare feat. 巡音ルカ」 - YouTube

北島詩 - 9277(女聲版)「要我唱幾首歌才能夠將你捕捉」動態歌詞版 - YouTube

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方大同Khalil Fong feat. 張靚穎 Jane Zhang －無所謂 Que Sera (Official MV) - YouTube

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杜德偉 Alex To【脫掉】Official Music Video - YouTube

林俊傑 JJ Lin - 因你而在 You N Me(華納official 高畫質HD官方完整版MV) - YouTube

水曜日のカンパネラ『ラー』 - YouTube

踊るRAPシリーズ『裁判』【AIDANO MOVIE】15th Anniversary Tour 2017 Question？ - YouTube

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NIKI - Dancing with the Devil - YouTube

LVNDSCAPE feat. Cathrine Lassen - Dive With Me (Official Lyric Video) - YouTube

Higher Brothers - Trickery (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO) - YouTube

Higher Brothers - Room Service (Official Music Video) - YouTube

Higher Brothers - Young Master (Audio) - YouTube

Higher Brothers ft. Keith Ape - WeChat (Official Video) - YouTube

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Stepping Stone · Eminem

Not Alike (feat. Royce Da 5'9) · Eminem, Royce Da 5'9"

Kamikaze · Eminem

Fall · Eminem

KICK THE CAN CREW 「magic number」- mama said ～ハタラキッパ～ - YouTube

Interlude : Wings - YouTube

RM - seoul (prod. HONNE) (from MONO) - YouTube

BONES - HEARTAGRAM ADIOS (Prod. Jayyeah) - YouTube

【抖音音乐】《我的天空》刘至佳CHOCO | Bầu Trời Của Tôi - Lưu Chí Giai CHOCO | Bài Hát Hot TikTok Tháng 10 - YouTube

Sefa - Leven is Lijden (Official Clip) - YouTube

Hoody (후디) - Sunshine (Feat. Crush) (ENG) - YouTube

Linkin Park - In The End (Mellen Gi & Tommee Profitt Remix) - YouTube

Underoath - No Frame - YouTube

[AUDIO] BoA (보아) – 습관 (I want you back) | ALBUM WOMAN - YouTube

luke chable - melburn - YouTube

Dee Montero - Headspace feat Meliha (Anjunadeep) - YouTube

RIRI - That’s My Baby (Official Video) - YouTube

RIRI - RUSH (Official Video) - YouTube

RIRI feat.Rim Nakamura「Keep Up」 - YouTube

m-flo / MARS DRIVE Lyric Video (New Edit Ver.) - YouTube

Denzel Curry- Ultimate (Lyrics) - YouTube

Tokyo Ghoul Unravel - Lyrics - YouTube

에릭남 (Eric Nam) - Miss You MV - YouTube

SKY-HI / 何様 feat. ぼくのりりっくのぼうよみ (Prod.SKY-HI) - YouTube

ゆるふわギャング (Yurufuwa Gang) "Speed" (Produced by Ryan Hemsworth) (Audio) - YouTube

RIP SLYME - Good Times (2D Ver.) - YouTube

RIP SLYME - JUMP with chay - YouTube

DJ 逆流成河 - YouTube

[MV] CLC (씨엘씨) _ BLACK DRESS - YouTube

Ariana Grande - thank u, next (Lyrics) - YouTube

【完整版MV】Dragon Pig - All About You 全部都是你 (feat. CNBALLER & CLOUD WANG) 中国嘻哈 Chinese Hip Hop - YouTube

Full opening naruto Blue Bird [Lyrics] - YouTube

LTN feat. Arielle Maren - Let Me Go (Vintage & Morelli Remix) - YouTube

[M/V] PRISTIN V(프리스틴 V) - 네 멋대로(Get It) - YouTube

Blood Groove & Kikis - Falling (LTN Remix) [Silk Music] - YouTube

스텔라 (Stellar) - 떨려요 (Vibrato) MV - YouTube

스텔라 (Stellar) - 마스크 (Mask) MV - YouTube

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레이샤 laysha - PINK LABEL Official M/V - YouTube

스텔라(Stellar) - 찔려(Sting) MV - YouTube

5 Seconds Of Summer - Youngblood (Official Video) - YouTube

「I know only you」MUSIC VIDEO - YouTube

anders - Bad Guy (Audio) - YouTube

anders - Take It Back (Audio) - YouTube

anders - I Don't Want Your Love (Audio) - YouTube

anders - Rain (Audio) - YouTube

anders - Notice (Interlude) [Audio] - YouTube

anders - Undone (Audio) - YouTube

Loud Luxury x anders - Love No More (Official Music Video) - YouTube

[MASHUP] 9MUSES / Stellar - Figaro / Vibrato - YouTube

Justin Bieber - I'll Show You - YouTube

Justin Bieber - What Do You Mean? (Lyric Video) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - Sorry (Lyric Video) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - No Sense (Audio Only) ft. Travis Scott - YouTube

Justin Bieber - The Feeling (Audio Only) ft. Halsey - YouTube

Skrillex and Diplo - "Where Are Ü Now" with Justin Bieber (Official Video) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - Been You (Audio Only) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - No Pressure (PURPOSE : The Movement) ft. Big Sean - YouTube

Justin Bieber - Get Used To It (Audio Only) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - We Are (Audio Only) ft. Nas - YouTube

Justin Bieber - All In It (Audio Only) - YouTube

Justin Bieber - Mark My Words (Audio Only) - YouTube

Crystal Lake - Apollo【Official Music Video】 - YouTube

DJ BAKU / NEO KHAOS feat. Ryo(Crystal Lake)【Official Video】 - YouTube

Crystal Lake - Dreamcatcher (Audio) - YouTube

A Scent Like Wolves - Angelwrath ft. Ryo Kinoshita of Crystal Lake (Official Music Video) - YouTube

Crystal Lake - Waves (Track Video) - YouTube

Crystal Lake -Ups&Downs- 【Official Video】 - YouTube

Crystal Lake - ”Beloved” (Ft. Kenta Koie from Crossfaith) 【Official Video】 - YouTube

Crystal Lake -Matrix-【Official Video】 - YouTube

LTN feat Arielle Maren - A Different Side Of You (Original Mix) - YouTube

A Scent Like Wolves - "Devilspit" - YouTube

[AUDIO] BoA (보아) – Like it! | ALBUM WOMAN - YouTube

【PV】DJ BAKU - SPIN STREET - YouTube

Maybeshewill - In another Life, When We Are Cats - YouTube

APINK x CHUNGHA - Sick Roller Coaster | Short Mashup by JANNY - YouTube

Red Velvet - #RookieJar || MASHUP by JANNY - YouTube

(G)I-DLE/SHAKIRA - LATATAs Don't Lie || MASHUP by JANNY - YouTube

Red Velvet - Peek-A-Boo || 80s Version - YouTube

TWICE - LIKEY || 80s Version - YouTube

Red Velvet - Russian Roulette || 80s Version - YouTube

MOMOLAND - BBoom BBoom || 80s Version - YouTube

EXO - Monster || 80s Version - YouTube

Red Velvet - Bad Boy || 80s Version - YouTube

Lariss - Dale Papi | Official Video - YouTube

Heeriye Full Song Video - Race 3 | Salman Khan & Jacqueline | Meet Bros ft. Deep Money, Neha Bhasin - YouTube

Johnny Johnny - Entertainment | Akshay Kumar & Tamannaah - Official HD Video Song 2014 - YouTube

लॉलीपॉप लागेलू - Pawan Singh - Lollypop Lagelu - Bhojpuri Hit Songs HD - YouTube

Maybeshewill - Japanese Spy Transcript - YouTube

Tera Rang Balle Balle - Video Song | Soldier I Bobby Deol & Preity Zinta I Sonu & Jaspinder - YouTube

Maybeshewill - Accolades - YouTube

Maybeshewill - An End To Camaraderie - YouTube

Ciara - Level Up - YouTube

[MV] SF9 (에스에프나인) _ Now or Never(질렀어) - YouTube

SF9 Now or Never -Japanese ver.- 【OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO】 - YouTube

Borai & Denham Audio - Make Me - YouTube

ISHARE TERE Song | Guru Randhawa, Dhvani Bhanushali | DirectorGifty | Bhushan Kumar - YouTube

"Dilbar Dilbar [Full Song]" Sirf Tum Ft. Sanjay Kapoor, Sushmita Sen - YouTube

Official Video: Nikle Currant Song | Jassi Gill | Neha Kakkar | Sukh-E Muzical Doctorz | Jaani - YouTube

PLAZA - Personal [Official Music Video] - YouTube

Phum Viphurit & Higher Brothers - Lover Boy 88 (Official Video) - YouTube

Gux Jimenez & Jaroak - Balearia (Southern Tier Remix) [Soluna Music] - YouTube

josh pan - give it to ya (feat. ABRA) [Virtual Simulation] - YouTube

[MV] Los(로스) _ Bad(Feat.Jay Park, G.Soul)(나쁜놈(Feat.박재범, G.Soul)) - YouTube

옐라디 (Yella D) - 가고있어 (On The Way To You) - YouTube

HYUNA - Ice Ice (얼음 땡) (Ft. Yook Ji Dam 육지담) - YouTube

HyunA (김현아) - Blacklist (Lyric) ft. LE of EXID - YouTube

Red Velvet 레드벨벳 'I Just' MV - YouTube

[LYRICS/가사] SEVENTEEN (세븐틴) - ROCKET [TEEN, AGE 2ND FULL ALBUM] - YouTube

바빌론(Babylon) - The Body Remix 'TIGHT' (Feat. Owen Ovadoz) - YouTube

G.Soul (지소울) - Tequila (Feat.후디(Hoody)) Official Music Video - YouTube

luvbird - your smile - YouTube

스텔라장 - 아름다워 (디깅클럽서울ver.) MV - YouTube

Usher - U Remind Me (Video Version) - YouTube

Usher - I don't know (ft. P.Diddy) - YouTube

Flashtech - Closer [Silk Music] - YouTube

Bad Girl - YouTube

Devlin - Paid My Dues - YouTube

Usher - Confessions, Pt. II - YouTube

Usher - Burn - YouTube

Usher - No Limit ft. Young Thug - YouTube

Red Velvet (레드벨벳) - Butterflies (Color Coded Lyrics Eng/Rom/Han/가사) - YouTube

Blue Lemonade - YouTube

Hit That Drum - YouTube

East & Atlas – Whispers - YouTube

Ata - Euphoria - YouTube

21 Savage, Offset & Metro Boomin - "Ghostface Killers" Ft Travis Scott (Official Audio) - YouTube

Tory Lanez, Rich The Kid - TAlk tO Me - YouTube

Lil Baby "My Dawg" (WSHH Exclusive - Official Music Video) - YouTube

Lil Baby x Gunna - "Drip Too Hard" (Official Music Video) - YouTube

Zeds Dead at TomorrowWorld 2014 - YouTube

Akh Lad Jaave With Lyrics | Loveyatri | Aayush S | Warina H |Badshah,Tanishk Bagchi,Jubin N,Asees K - YouTube

GOT7 "You Are” M/V - YouTube

JPM 那不是雪中紅 (官方完整版MV) - YouTube

[쇼미더머니 4 Episode 6] 송민호, 지코 (MINO, ZICO) - Okey Dokey MV - YouTube

SHINee 샤이니 'View' MV - YouTube

[MV] UNTOUCHABLE(언터쳐블) _ CRAYON(크레파스) - YouTube

[Crayon Pop] 크레용팝 'FM' M/V - official - YouTube

[MV] 주헌, 형원, I.M - 인터스텔라 (Interstellar) (Feat. Yella Diamond) - YouTube

아웃사이더 (Outsider) - Bye U (feat. G.O of MBLAQ) - YouTube

蔡依林 Jolin Tsai - PLAY我呸 (華納official 高畫質HD官方完整版MV) - YouTube

ЯрмаК - Вставай (TS Prod.) - YouTube

[M/V] 요즘애들 (feat. Freelow) - 제이슬로우(J.slow) - YouTube

2NE1 - '안녕 (GOODBYE)' M/V - YouTube

[MV] B.A.P _ That’s My Jam - YouTube

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e-namor-a · 6 years

Text

Masked Pt. VII

Here we go! I was super inspired and the next part should be up super soon too! Please keep in mind that, I am currently in therapy and a large part of what I’m writing is my experience mixed with my imagination and creative liberties.

Gods, I hope you like it! Tag List still open!! Warnings: Cussing (I think that’s it?) and an asston of dialogue, and only bucky here. любимая- beloved. pt. i/ pt.ii / pt. iii/ pt. iv/ pt. v/ pt. vi

Bucky took off his sunglasses, closing his eyes and leaning back on the bench enjoying the soft breeze in his hair, turning his face towards the warm sunlight, letting out a small chuckle as the small woman sitting next to him continued animatedly telling her story.

It had been several months since he started therapy and he was slowly starting to feel better. Wounds that hadn’t healed properly finally started to, while others that he hadn’t realized even existed had finally been exposed. It hadn’t been easy. There were nights he woke up screaming sweat and tears running down him, and others he hadn’t slept at all, wandering the city for days, sun up to sun down. Looking back at it though, he could see the progress and he felt a small thrum of pride go through him. A sharp elbow to his ribs had him opening his eyes, “Are you even listening to me, Barnes? Here I am pouring my heart, bearing my soul to you and you’re blowing me off.” He left out a scoff and looked over at the small woman who had her arms crossed over her chest, “So dramatic. How could I possibly ignore you with a voice like yours?” “You absolute prick! I’ll have you know that my voice sounds like chocolate covered velvet! I mean… I sound like melting honey! You fucking know what? I sound like a choir of fuckin’ angels! Goddamn Angels, Barnes!”

Bucky couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh that quickly turned into a full-bodied guffaw. Amidst laughs, he let out, “Come the fuck on Rina. You and I both know that you don’t sound like that. Oh God, that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard today.” His laughter started to die out and he focused his gaze on Sabrina, whose voluminous curls fluttered in the breeze. She was glaring at him, but a small twinkle in her eye undermined it.

“You done?”, she asked dryly.

Bucky let out a grin and nodded before standing up, grabbing the basket at their feet and extending his hand out to her, the cool vibranium glinting in the light. She took it smiling, fixed her white sundress and handed him her colorful sweater before tucking her arm under his and gently gripping his upper arm. They walked lazily around the park, leaning into each other as she energetically continued her story. They were distracted and aimlessly enjoying their afternoon when Bucky tensed. His eyes had focused on a woman dressed in a black cocktail dress who was hurrying towards them. She was looking at the cement and had her arms wrapped around herself. Bucky’s eyes widened, and he blanched.

Was that…

Was that who he thought it was?

“Y/N.” He breathed out. No. It couldn’t be.

You were out of the country and staying there. That’s what Tony had told Natalia when he had gotten back after being away for two months. You had gotten closer, and Bucky felt his stomach flip in horror when he realized how sickly you looked. Your hair, once shiny was dull and lifeless, your skin was pale and the bags under your eyes looked like purple bruises. “What’s wrong James? I thought today was a good day?”, Sabrina’s voice broke his trance. He looked down quickly at her. She was facing him, a look of concern on her face as she gently reached up to grab his chin to try to force him to focus on her, thinking he was having an episode. He moved his chin out of Rina’s hand looking back up to see that you had stopped walking and were standing a few feet away from him.

“Barnes? What is it? Talk to me. Do I have to call Tasha? Or Steve?”,Sabrina’s voice had gotten a little higher pitched with worry as Bucky remained unresponsive. Bucky could feel the waves of waves of worry coming off of Sabrina, but he couldn’t answer. He just stared at you like he was seeing the sun for the first time. His love for you, along with his guilt and his pain, knocked the breath out of his chest. It had been almost a year since you had disappeared that chilly night. Almost a year since he had seen you. Almost a year since he had held you, kissed you. And now after all that time, you were right in front of him. He swayed forward, ready to go to you. To explain what happened, why he had done what he did to you. To beg for forgiveness and plead for you to be in his life again. He almost took a step towards you but the look on your face stopped him. There was a burning cold rage in the planes of your face, and a deep haunting ocean of pain in your eyes. It was the most emotion he had ever seen from you, and it was aimed at him. Bucky could feel Sabrina tapping on his chest, still unaware of you and what was going on, and he saw your eyes go to her and let out the most imperceptible of flinches; if he hadn’t been looking he would’ve missed it. He glanced towards her and realized what you were probably thinking.

Sabrina was turned toward him, one of her arms around his waist, and the other on his chest. His bare vibranium arm had wrapped around her shoulders, subconsciously curling her towards him while the other held the picnic basket and her sweater. How close they were standing. How intimate they looked. He breathed sharply and let go of Sabrina, dropping the basket and the sweater, moving instantaneously away from her. He raised a hand almost pleadingly like he was trying to reach out to you but flinched and dropped it when he saw your eyes narrow and fists clench. You were close enough that he could see the tears well up in the corner of your eyes and the way that you seemed to exude rage and pain, while simultaneously fade even more in front of his eyes. He wanted to explain but the words failed him, he couldn’t get them out. He was frozen just watching you as the past year without you hit him again. By the time he realized it, you were already walking towards him with your chin held high and steps smooth and evenly paced, your wedges quietly clicking on the pavement.

You walked closer, and his breath hitched. He reached out, grabbing your forearm gently, “Stop. Please. Let me explain. It’s not what you think.” And suddenly he found himself on the hard ground, Sabrina yelping in surprise in the background, and you straddled over him, legs pinning his arms, a feral snarl on your face and a forearm pressed to his throat. You leaned in very close to his face, noses almost touching and pushed harder on his throat, hissing out,“Don’t you ever fucking touch me. Ever” Bucky could’ve pushed you off, even at your strongest you were weaker than him the Soviets serum always giving him an edge, but instead, he laid there and looked into your eyes. They were a swirling turmoil of emotions but they were still the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

He couldn’t lose you again. He couldn’t let you walk away. He knew he hurt you, deeply. Long before he had cheated on you, he had hurt you. Therapy had helped him see that. And now all he wanted was to have you back. To show you, and talk to you, and fix what he had ruined. “Please. Please. Let me explain, let’s talk. Please,” he begged softly,“Y/N, please. I’m so sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry for the pain that I caused. Please. Please, darling, let me explain. Please.” You were as still as a statue. As soon as he had opened his mouth, you froze. The emotion swirling behind your eyes had stilled and Bucky couldn’t tell what was going through your head. He gently moved his arm from under your shins and reached up to cup your cheek. As soon as he touched your skin, just as soft as he remembered, your eyes closed a tear slipping out. He moved his thumb to wipe your tear away and his heart thundered as you leaned your head into the contact. “Y/N”, he murmured as he stroked your cheek, reveling in your presence, “I’ve missed you, любимая. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry. Mariah was nothing. She meant nothing.” He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Your eyes had snapped open and briefly, he saw the ocean of pain in them again. You shoved his hand away, and stood while snarling out, “I told you to not fucking touch me.”

You glanced over at Sabrina, a glimmer of something flashing over your face, too quickly for him to identify it before you looked down. You seemed to wrestle with yourself before you bit out, “Be careful with that one,” and walked away. Bucky leaped to his feet, ready to go after you but a small hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him. He turned ready to argue with Sabrina if he needed to. He had to get to you before you vanished from his life again, but one look at Sabrina’s face stopped him.

She was crying softly. Her arms were wrapped around herself, as though she was cold despite standing in the warm sun. Her brown eyes glistened as she watched you walk away, hunched over yourself as though trying to make yourself smaller. “Let her go Barnes”, Sabrina said quietly, “Let her go.”

Sabrina and Bucky had walked back somberly back to their building. Bucky had tried to start a conversation with her several times but Sabrina had just shaken her head and kept walking forward in silence. They stood side by side in the elevator and Bucky felt like the silence was strangling him.

They got out and as they walked down the hallway, he could feel his anxiety rising. He knew he had fucked up. He knew that. He just couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong.

Sabrina unlocked the door, and kicked off her shoes, and stumbled into the bedroom. Bucky just waited by the door, fidgeting, waiting for her to come back out. He was running through every second of what had happened in the park with you. Why had you fled? Why had you reacted the way you did? He didn’t understand. Sabrina walked out, wearing her hair up, some errant chocolate curls popping out, an oversized sweater of his and some sweats, glaring briefly at him before heading to the kitchen.

“Sit down Barnes. And relax,” she called out as she pulled out mugs, honey, and milk, before putting the kettle on the stove to boil some water for tea. Bucky hesitatingly hung his jacket on the hook by the door and leaned down to untie his Converse, before he made his way into the living room. He perched himself on the corner loveseat, angling himself towards the door, reverting back to his hyper-aware Winter Soldier training. He felt when Sabrina walked in, pausing in the entryway, sighing tiredly when she saw him staring at his sock-clad feet. He wanted to tell her what was wrong but the words were stuck in his throat. He didn’t know how to say what he felt. He tensed as she made her over to him, but relaxed as she started humming. She was making sure that he knew she was there and that she wasn’t there to hurt him. It was signal they made up when he started withdrawing into himself.

She stood in front of him and nudged his foot softly with hers extending a cup of chai tea out for him to take. He wanted to grab it and hold the cup close letting its warmth soothe him. He felt so cold and so tense and so muzzled. He could feel her concern grow and she asked concernedly, “Bucky? Honey?” She moved over the papers and pens on the table placing the cups on the tea table in front of him and sat on the edge next to them, reaching out and placing her soft warm hands his cold forearms. He willed himself to speak, to answer her, to tell anything but he just fucking couldn’t. “Come back to me. Don’t go down the rabbit hole. Come back to me,” she coaxed softly as she gently rubbed circles on his skin. She started to hum a song again, trying to help him ground himself and little by little he could feel himself thawing. He could feel the tension and anxiety in him ebbing away. “Bucky?”, she asked again, head tilted trying to catch his gaze. He looked up, almost shyly before letting out the smallest smile. She grinned back at him, her eyes kind and she leaned forward and hugged him tightly before leaning back and punching him lightly in the shoulder. “I thought I was going to lose you there again. You need to stop freaking me out.” “I’m sorry Rina. I was trying to figure out what I was feeling like you’ve taught me to do but I couldn’t get figure it out. I ended up too far in my own head. I’m sorry.” “Oh hush.” She handed him his mug of tea and sat down beside him, throwing her legs in his lap. “I know what happened and I know what you feeling,” she said a tad smug, taking a sip from her mug, “But now you have to figure it out. And that means we’re going to have a session.” Bucky threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, let out a small whine. “Don’t give me that shit Barnes. You and I both know that you need a session. So cooperate because-“ “ ‘Because Sabrina knows best.’ I know your stupid saying. Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I have to like it, Rina.”, Bucky huffed. “Tough tits, man.” She shrugged before sitting up and crossing her legs, reaching over and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, “Tell me Bucky. What’s being going on since the last session we had?” Bucky rolled his eyes at the petite brunette sitting next to him, but he turned so he was facing her and breathed deeply. Sabrina was right, he needed to talk out what had happened. “Well since the last session, everything has been more or less normal. I’ve had a couple of nightmares but the techniques you gave me helped with them more often than not. I’ve been sleeping and eating more and I’ve been trying to socialize more, to get more comfortable in this century like you wanted me to, but sometimes I forget. Really the most significant thing that’s happened, and the sole reason that we’re having this session is that today I saw Y/N.” Rina nodded, looking interested and making a small note on the pad in her lap. “How did that go?” Bucky sat pensively, mulling it over. It was hard getting in touch with his feelings after decades of being a machine. He must’ve taken too long in answering because Sabrina asked, “How about you tell me how your day was going before you saw Y/N? Was it a good day? Was it bad?” “It was a good day. I was taking in every second I could, trying to present and truly enjoy what was going on. I woke up, not feeling tired but truly rested. I had a good breakfast and I texted Steve some funny memes I found, listened to some records and had a small dance party in my bathroom as I got dressed. I went to the park to meet you for a delicious picnic. It was a great day. I didn’t feel hunted, or stifled. I was genuinely free. But then I saw Y/N,” Bucky fidgeted with his thumbs, not wanting to answer the question he knew was coming. “You can’t avoid the question. How did seeing her make you feel?” Rina pressed. “Fear. I think? I felt shock, definitely. But I think I also felt fear? I don’t know why though. I haven’t seen her in almost a year and then she was standing in front of me looking like hell, with a look on her face I’d never seen. She was standing in front of me, and I was scared.” Bucky’s leg started bouncing, trying to alleviate some nerves. “Right there in front of me was the woman I had been with for years but she was a complete stranger. I couldn’t recognize her. And I caused that. I created that stranger in front of me and I was afraid. And then I felt anger. I was so angry. I love that woman. Even after all this time, even after everything I did. I love her. I would move mountains, bring down the moon. I would do anything for her and I ruined it. I ruined it and I hurt her. I felt so guilty too.” “What else?”, Rina asked as she watched him, her pen moving across the pad. “I also felt… like I was being chased? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I didn’t want to let her out of my sight. I couldn’t lose her again. I had to explain why I did what I did. Why I cheated. Why I was so detached from her. I wanted to grab her and tell her so she could understand why. I felt this sense of urgency. Desperation maybe? Like if I told her what I felt everything would be ok again. But I said too much? Or maybe I didn’t say the right thing? Or not enough? Because she got angry and she left. She just walked away from me again.” “And watching her walk away from you again, how did that make you feel?”, Sabrina had stopped writing, look at him intensely. Bucky looked down at this jeans. His finger started pulling at the small tear in his knee. “I felt like she was abandoning me. If she had just listened to me, maybe she would’ve stayed. Maybe she would be sitting here next to me.” “Is that it?”, she asked, trailing off as though she expected him to speak again. He nodded, a little confused because she had never talked to him in that tone during a session. “Ok Buck, this session is clearly a little more informal. Nevertheless, I’m going to give you my official therapist advice and then I’m going to say something as someone who cares for you. Ok? Good.”

She tossed the pad and pen onto the table and tugged on a stray brown curl that had escaped her bun. Bucky was intrigued, he had never seen her so unsure of how to proceed. “You are a person who carries significant trauma on his person. You’ve endured psychological, emotional, physical trauma. I saw it the second you walked into my office. You've got a ways to go but you’ve made tremendous progress. Really, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I think that what you’re feeling is valid. I understand it because I understand you. But really, we need to break this idea that you’re going to be abandoned.”

Sabrina drank a little tea, letting Bucky process what she said, and telling her when he was ready. “The thing is Buck? You aren’t going to be. You’re surrounded by people who love you, who worry about you and want you to be the best version of yourself, for you to be happy. To find joy. And you can have it but you won’t let yourself. I don’t know why. I can speculate but I genuinely have no idea why you don’t. You push people away, and you do that because it’s easier to do that than to deal with the root problem. So long as you don’t identify it and deal with it, you will continue sabotaging yourself. With Y/N, with Steve, with Tasha, everyone. Think about what I’m telling you. Write it out and try to figure it out. We’ll have a more formal session next time and go through your thoughts then. Ok? Alright then.”

Buck nodded, processing what Rina had said. He was so caught up thinking and staring down, that he missed her grabbing a pillow and swinging it until it hit him right in the face. “What the fuck? That hurt! What’s wrong with you?”, Bucky growled. “You deserved it! I told you I was going to talk to you after our session. Ugh! What’s wrong with me?! What is wrong with you! I could strangle you, I swear to God Barnes!”, Sabrina started swinging the pillow again but it got snatched right out of her hands. “Stop hitting me! Use your words! What the fuck is going on?!” Bucky asked voice laced with incredulity. Sabrina hopped up, standing and glaring at him. “You absolute moron! Y/N was standing right in front of you. She was right there and you botch it! How could you botch it?! I’ve heard you talk about this girl non-stop since you came to my office. She’s standing right there and you’re standing there with me, and you push your apologies on a broken woman, and you just fucking botch it!” She turned away from him and started pacing, and he watched her get good and worked up. “You know she probably thought we were a couple? Like we had just gone on a date? I’m wearing a pretty dress, you’re carrying my sweater, we’re holding each other. She got the wrong impression and you didn’t fix it! Like an idiot! You literally just pushed me away! She probably thought you had moved on and had just been caught all over again with another woman! Gods Barnes! How difficult would it have been to say ‘Hi, Y/N, I know you’ve probably already jumped to conclusions and rightfully so but seriously this is just my lesbian best friend and sometimes therapist! No romantic-ness happening here! Not now and not ever!’ WHY!” She turned and stood in front him and narrowed her eyes, “How could you not correct her? A blind man from a mile away could see that you two dumb-asses still love each other. Don't think I didn’t catch that Russian slip-up. And then she tried to leave and you stop her! You touch her! You know touch is hard for her and you invaded her space without any permission from her! You know first hand how that feels! Honestly Bucky! Honestly!” Bucky could see Sabrina’s face flushing in anger and he braced himself for the rest of her rant. “And then you apologize! That woman was traumatized before you came into the picture, even more so after. And then in a span of a couple of minutes, you hurt her and you invade her space and you push your apology on her! What if she wasn’t ready? Or she didn’t want to hear it? Did you think about what your apology would to her? No! No, you didn’t! You just said it and it’s so fucking selfish of you! I understand why I mean I am your therapist for gods’ sake but I don’t fucking get it! You know damn well, that if someone treated you how you just treated Y/N, you would’ve exploded in anger. So how dare you? how could you? ” Bucky flinched. He hadn’t thought of any of that. He felt bad and wanted to run away but he knew that he had to hear it. His feelings were valid, and so were his reactions but he had to be shown perspective, and that’s all Rina was doing. “James Buchanan Barnes, I love you. And I know you’ve been damaged. I know that. But that doesn’t give you a blank slate to treat Y/N badly. You were so selfish to her. And as both your therapist and your friend, I am telling you, you have to fix what you did wrong. Not just for your benefit but for hers also.” Tags: @photography-to-all @susmita121 @the-alpha-queen @awinterloveuniverse @im-a-motherfuckin-mermaid @risinghero @caaaaaaarrrrrlll @glittercoveredsouls @buckybabybaby @justreadingfics @flowerchildqueenlovely @westfields-maple @ly--canthrope @hollycornish @learisa @unevenpages @yo-yo-bro-bro @ufffg @geeksareunique @westfields-maple @chrys-1029 @38leticia @sickervismagnaxi @coal000 @violentlybarnes @fay-fighter @wanderlustqueen1998 @bbadbitchh @goldenstateof @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @marvelssecretmistress @lovemesomepietro @mia-at-work @diinofayce @alitav99 @violence-and-velvet @itsagentromanoff

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader

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regina-mortis · 6 years

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Inktober Writing Challenge

(I am two days behind now, and trying to catch up so... apologies if it's not too good or a little cheesy)

Day 11: Ouija Board

“It’s just a stupid game” Vanessa groaned, slumping onto a round, black rug embroidered in constellations. Probably another gem from that occult fashion and interior online store Olivia kept burning money in… obsessed with the dark stuff! Completely bonkers! Nuts!... She could understand the horror movies, those masked killers and demons and zombies, but… this? All this ghost and magick crap did not exist real life… Vanessa bit her lip harshly, refusing to admit even to herself that deep down it slightly spooked her, too.

“We’ll see” Olivia murmured, an idle smirk lingering on her black-painted lips. She appeared slightly taller of the two, clothed in dusty black converse sneakers, torn skinny jeans and an old shirt of the band Archgoat, hair cascading onto her shoulders in lush waves dyed azure. Complete opposite to Vanessa’s wild fair curls and rose shirt dress, as well as nails polished sparkly silver she bit on nervously. Strange, almost venomously cynical charm pulsed around the young witch, just as it usually did, causing Vanessa to roll her eyes.

“Do we really have to keep the lights off?..” the blonde complained “It’s silly” she made sure to swiftly erase any faintest shadow of dread from her gloomy face - more for her own sake than to impress Olivia… As if the hag could not see right through her, anyway “I have seen the lights being on several times in movies”.

“Well, we are not in a movie” Olivia grunted “And yeah, we do. Now shut the fuck up”

“Let’s get this over with, okay?..”.

Olivia did not answer, merely nodding and sitting down in front of her best friend, tossing away a large red velvet bag to reveal a wooden board which she set in front of them two. Despite her shivery skepticism, Vanessa caught herself marveling at the artistic masterpiece. The carvings were exquisite - a breathtaking, complicated figure engraved into each corner - smiling Sun on the right and grim-eyed Moon on the left at top as well as an angel and a devil at the bottom. The work was complete with letters and numbers and the words “yes”, “no” and “goodbye” of calligraphic gothic font, and a black frame peppered with imagery of stars. Briefly, Olivia switched her attention, snapping a lighter inflamed to kindle six black candles set around the constellation rug.

“Do you remember the rules?”

“Always say goodbye” Vanessa sighed “If the planchette moves across the four corners, the spirit is evil. If it counts down the alphabet or the numbers, the spirit is trying to escape. Do not let the planchette fly off. Do not burn the board… Do not ask about God… Do not ask when are you going to die?..”.

“Never insult the spirit” Olivia reminded “Put your hands on the planchette. We must draw two circles, one for each for us. Don’t worry. I shall lead the ritual”.

Grimacing, Vanessa reluctantly obeyed, inhaling deeply.

Nothing will happen… This will be done soon… Just get over this…

Olivia gently circled the planchette before closing her eyes, blindly gazing up, almost ethereal in tremulous glow of softly breathing candlelight.

“We summon you, spirits near. Come forth and make your presence known, o friends, we welcome you kindly” she fell silent for briefest moment, only then quietly asked “Is someone here with us?..”.

A gentle, bone-chilling breeze rippled through thickened air, causing the dim luminary to palpitate. The planchette vibrated under the tensed girls’ fingers, slowly, oh so very slowly sliding towards the word “yes”.

“You are doing it!” Vanessa accused, biting her lip harshly, yet unable to masquerade bewilderment in her eyes.

“Oh, does it mean I am causing the wind, too?.. Don’t forget zero fan, or the fact windows are tightly shut” Olivia raised her eyebrow, almost taunting her best friend. Only then did the blonde realize she was violently quivering. “Just keep quiet” she growled before addressing the supposed specter hovering nearby “Forgive us for the banther. My friend can be a little… unmannered sometimes. Could we ask who are we speaking with, dear friend? What is your name?”.

Vanessa held her breath, teeth staining red for she gnawed her bottom lip so harshly. “M...” Olivia uttered as the planchette slid across the board, gray eyes lighting up, tinting with poisonous emerald “A... R... A... X… Marax...” a honeyed, maniacal grin crooked her beautiful lips “I knew you’d come…”.

All color drained from Vanessa’s face, eyes growing hollow, blushy cheeks turning gaunt. Marax… Was no ghost. It was a demon’s name! That much her petrified self knew… Olivia spoke as if… She knew this demon?! Wait… A sickening sense of impending doom soaked into her throat, and she barely held herself from gagging. With heart slowly suffocating from barely endurable urge to run, the blonde watched the planchette menacingly spelling out “My love”.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa” it was Olivia’s grim voice which ripped her misty ponders apart. Sighing, she pulled something out of her pocket. Something… coldly glistening in the candlelight “But I need a sacrifice… to liberate my beloved”.

#inktober #inktober 2018 #inktober challenge #writetober #ouija board #horror #horror story #short story #short horror story #my writing #writers on tumblr

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crazy8man-blog · 5 years

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Crazy 8 ( chapter 08)

I couldn't fucking believe it. Oh God! Please! Not again! What did you do? What the fuck did you do? Why! Oh my fucking God why! He just sat there grinning.

Philip had taken off his mask and revealed my true inner self, a self that had been taught to him in an act of love and vengeance that had been hidden deep behind the mask. He had it in him to kill. I He had been through Hell.

My memory of my personal hell is still fresh in my mind. The dream never ends but instead plays over and over, every night. And the only nights of peace I have known away from my hell are when I'm with Sally Pickles. Otherwise I have to be blasted off, way past this galaxy, no, away from this universe to escape the pain in the clutches of the bitch, Tina.

Tina, she is the nightmare that escapes that nightmare. She is my secret secret in the night. In lonely spaces she fills my night to the point where Philip and I became as one, angels that dance across the sky with the clouds beneath our feet. Both are my survival.

It moves in slow motion, my grandfather coming down the steps with the ball peen hammer in his hand wearing his crushed velvet black suit jacket, a white shirt and a red tie. I am so drugged that the noise around me becomes muffled.

I'm wrapped in a horrible wool blanket that burns against my feces covered skin. He looks in my eyes and says to my dad "No Chubby. I want him to know he's safe." I wish I could have known him.

My older brother had bought me across the street to his house 3 days earlier, labor day, 1969. I was 4years old. He made me swallow some pills and then tied me to a saw horse and fucked me for days. Had I been alone I would have lost my fucking will to survive

"Joseph! You're a Gueci! God dammit you take this hammer and smash his head in for how he hurt you"! But I couldn't. Then suddenly the other boy grabbed the hammer from my grandfather and did what I could not..

I never will be able to escape the nightmare, the madness of his screams, of that basement, if his eye hanging out of his head. I'm terrified and hide my face in my father's chest. Then I black out.

And now I'm fucking paying it. I'm paying for what happened in a nightmare about a basement on Rosemary Lane.

Mom, it's too hot for me to go out and I need to drop something off at the Sheridan on West, I mean East Colonial Drive. Can you. Why do you have me on speaker phone? You know I fucking hate that. Can please give me a lift? I'll fill up your tank on the way home. " No! " Ma it's kind of important. "Then take the bus!" Ma I can't really take the bus right now! "Joseph, you're on drugs. I figured it out!" In the end she gave me the lift. But I can only imagine how bad she would have freaked the fuck out had she known what I was delivering and the amount of cash I was picking up.

Sippie lost his life because I invited over to party and he stole from Philip. My marriage is in ruins because I did not ask my beloved Ivan to party with me with the drug I had been introduced to by Philip. Some tranny beast made that cunt, reverend Pat aware that I party and that's why Sally Pickles and I are now apart. And now I may do what only Philip could have done to her!

As for Terry? Philip has every intention of bashing his fucking brians in! Terry hr will find you! I could have been at peace. I could've fucking been dead and with my beloved Philip if you would've done the right thing and given me my shit!

And that's where I stand right now.

At the shelter that I was placed in, yes my fucking life has sunk that low, I am on suicide watch. And oh my fucking God, how funny!, They wrote out a fucking safety plan for me to follow today. I mean, do I really sound like I'm going to follow a fucking safety plan?

Don't get me wrong. But the fucking plan is more for their comfort than my fucking safety.

Anyways, I scoped out the pastor's apartment again. But I had to ditch when someone I know sarcastically made her presence known.

God I fucking hate people!

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embracetheapocalypsewithme · 7 years

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A Slippery Situation

This fic was borne out of a silly conversation with @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash on this post. I hope that I did the idea justice. :)

Summary: Negan eats some questionable soup while working late and encounters an alternate version of himself. This “Other Negan” may be a little older and shorter than him, but he might just have some things to teach Negan about oil wrestling and the love that a man can share for his ruggedly handsome TV clone.

Word count: 4,301

Warnings: Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, Comic Negan being Comic Negan, submission, domination, anal sex, unsafe sex, oral sex, semen, drugs, mention of incest, mention of masturbation, and oil wrestling! Enjoy!

A Slippery Situation

From the very first spoon-full, Negan knew that the soup tasted funny, but went right ahead with his meal anyway. Hell, most things that came in cans had started to taste funny as they exceeded their best before dates by months and years. Besides this, the Sanctuary’s cooking staff were notoriously terrible at their job, so everything that left their kitchen tended to taste a slightly “off” at best, and barely edible at worst.

“I’ve gotta find some new kitchen bitches like fucking yesterday,” he grumbled to no one in particular as he raised the spoon to his lips and grimaced at the slightly sour taste that invaded his mouth.

The soup was so bad that on another day he probably would have had one of his men bring it back to the kitchen and tear a strip off of whoever was in charge of that night’s meal, but he was far too busy for those kind of shenanigans today. He braved his way nearly to the end of the bowl, trying to fill his empty stomach with the disgusting liquid while actually tasting as little of it as he could manage. He mostly succeeded and only retched once near the end when the soup had begun to cool to room temperature and the taste could no longer be masked by its initial scalding temperatures.

“Fucking good for nothing, lazy asshole fucking, so called fucking cooks. Fuck, fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck!” he exhaled a long sigh of profanity after regaining control of his gag reflex, and pushed the nearly-empty bowl of soup away in disgust.

As he sat alone in his room, going over battle plans in preparation for another day of squabbling with Alexandria, he felt his mind wander back to the god-forsaken soup. Fucking Christ, how he wished he had time to personally march down to the kitchen and force-feed the cold leftovers of his meal to the first member of the staff he laid eyes upon. A tension headache began to gnaw into the centre of his forehead and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, slamming his eyes shut.

“Oh fucking great! Just fucking marvelous! A fucking headache is all I need now…”

But it wasn’t just a headache that he was feeling. His stomach turned over and he felt another wave of nausea hit him as his vision began to dance slightly. Staggering to his feet, Negan shuffled toward one of the long, velvet couches that sat against the wall of his office. These were typically inhabited by a wife or two, but he had dismissed the women in order to focus on his work this evening, and was totally alone.

“Just need to lie down for a minute and let it pass. I’ll be right as fucking rain if I can close my eyes for a goddamn minute. Not like I have a fucking choice at this point.”

He let his large body drop into the couch dramatically and groaned in frustration at his plight. Of course he would get food poisoning the night before he had to deal with Rick the Prick and his merry band of dickwads. This did not bode well for them at all.

“Well, shit, you fucking pussy! Why don’t you just bash another one of their heads in and break his spirit a bit more. Get him back in line, man!”

The voice that came from inside the room was deep and not entirely dissimilar to his own, but it had a strong southern drawl and was rougher around the edges. Negan’s deep brown eyes sprang open and he sat bolt upright, ready to confront the intruder.

His gaze fell to a man he knew he had never seen before, and yet he felt instantly familiar to Negan. This was because he was dressed in his characteristic uniform of green pants tucked into black boots, a white t-shirt with a leather jacket draped over it, all topped off with a bright red scarf around his neck. He was even carrying his beloved Lucille in his hands. The man was several inches shorter than Negan and much slimmer, but still managed to look imposing as he loomed over his current place on the couch.

“Good morning, sunshine!” the man drawled smoothly as a shark-like grin spread across his face, which was undeniably handsome and adorned with a fair amount of silver-tinged scruff. He leaned back at an angle that seemed just a little bit too extreme to be comfortable and slung the wooden symbol of the only bitch Negan had ever loved over his shoulder.

“You must have a fucking death wish, asshole!” Negan bellowed, springing to his feet, ready to follow the man’s advice and start cracking skulls at this disrespectful display, “What the fuck is this? Halloween for Doucehbags? Get my fucking jacket the fuck off of you and get the fuck on your knees! Now!”

“Oh, sweetheart, you know I can’t do that yet. Ya gotta buy me dinner first!” the man said, taking a step closer, “Besides, this ain’t your jacket, prick. Look down.”

Negan did as he commanded, against his better judgment, and was stunned to find that he was still wearing his leather jacket. In fact, he was wearing the exact same outfit as this man, right down to the biker gloves that partially covered his large hands. He gaped in confusion, at a momentary loss for words, before his head sprang back up to meet the other man’s hazel eyes.

“Alright, fucker, who put you up to this? Was it Dwight? Is this some kind of weird dominance display to retaliate for fucking Sherry? Because if it is, I’ll Freddy Kruger the other side of his ugly face!”

The slightly older man with the scruff scoffed at this, “Do you really think Dwighty-Boy has enough creativity to pull this shit off? Not heckin’ likely! I’m you, Negan.”

“What the ever-fucking-shit are you talking about? You’re not me. I’m me. The world can only handle one fucking Negan and I am it!” he bellowed at the man.

“Well, shit. Tell that to Scott Gimple,” the Other Negan said with a smirk.

“Scott who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied dismissively, stepping uncomfortably close to his younger and taller counterpart, “Let’s just say that I’m an alternate version of you. I’m kinda like…what you would be if they made a TV show of your life.”

“Well, it’s fucking flattering that they think I’m so goddam handsome,” the larger, Original Negan said, inspecting the Other Negan’s face, “but I’m not nearly as old as you are, asshole.”

“That may be true, darlin’, but that just means I’ve got more experience,” the handsome TV Show Negan drawled, placing an arm around Original Negan.

Original Negan ducked out from under the arm, shaking his head, “If you’re me then why don’t you fucking swear. I swear all goddamn, motherfucking, cocksucking day! It’s kind of my thing.”

“Censorship,” TV Negan said simply, looking slightly annoyed, “Jesus, I wish I could swear like you. Might get rid of some of these anger management issues I seem to have. Maybe I’d stop having to bash in so many heads.”

“Nah, there’s sadly always some fucker who needs to be put in their place,” Original Negan sighed, “It’s unfortunate, but some pricks just deserve it.”

“Well, at least that’s one thing we can agree on. That, and the fact that I’m fucking handsome as shit!” TV Negan said, the grin returning.

“Uh, yeah. Ok. Fine, we can agree on that. I’m man enough to admit when I find another man attractive. Nothing fucking wrong with that…” he trailed off in thought for a moment and then came back to himself, “How-fucking-ever, I am going to need you to return my lady-friend you have there. I don’t like other fuckers touching her, even if they do look a bit like me.”

“I’m afraid that I just cannot do that, sweetheart. This Lucille is mine, and I am not letting her go for anyone.”

“Well, it looks like we’re at a fucking impasse here because if you don’t return Lucille this fucking instant, I’m gonna have to kick your ass, and I’d rather not do that tonight. Got shit to do. You know how it is,” Original Negan said as a cold look spread across his eyes.

“Rick the Prick being an asshole again?” TV Negan asked with a twinge of sympathy.

“You fucking know it. God! He’s such a fucking dick sometimes!”

“He does suck ass. A whole lot of ass.”

“Fuckin’ A!” chuckled Original Negan, “You’re alright in my books if you hate Rick, but the fact still remains that I’m about ten seconds away from stabbing you in the gut and taking Lucille back by force if you don’t hand her over.”

The shorter man held up is free hand in a placating gesture, “Calm down, ya big asshole! I think there’s another way to go about settling this.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Original Negan asked, skepticism creeping into his tone.

“I’ll wrestle you for her,” TV Negan replied, his expression grave, “Whoever wins gets to keep the fair lady, Lucille. How about it?”

Original Negan stroked his smooth chin with two gloved fingers, considering the other man’s proposition for a moment, “Yeah…Ok! You got yourself a deal. Hell, I’ve got at least a few inches and more than a few pounds of muscle over you. This ain’t gonna be much of a fucking challenge!”

“Plot twist!” TV Negan exclaimed as he stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it aside, “This isn’t just any kind of regular wrestling, you know. That’d be too easy. This has to be oil wrestling, just to even the playing field.”

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

“Do you want the chance to win Lucille back or not, asshole?”

Original Negan shook his head slowly, “I can’t believe I’m actually gonna do this…” he mumbled as he pulled off his own jacket and tossed it into the couch, followed shortly thereafter by his t-shirt and pants, “I’m not ruining perfectly good clothes just because you got it in your head that getting all greased up gives you an advantage. I suggest you follow suit and we do this in our fucking undies.”

“Whatever you say, big boy, only there’s a bit of a problem with that plan,” TV Negan said as he unbuckled his belt and tugged his zipper open.

“And what exactly is th-“ Original Negan’s words cut off abruptly as he quickly discovered the issue for himself.

“I’m not so much a fan of underwear, ya see,” TV Negan said with a grin that contained not even a trace of bashfulness.

Original Negan stared blankly at the other man’s naked form, taking it all in before stripping off his own underwear and squaring up to his opponent.

“Ok, so where’s this fucking oil then?” he asked.

“Behind you,” TV Negan said matter-of-factly.

Original Negan turned to see a large bottle of baby oil sitting on the end table beside the couch, its powder pink label blaring out at him. He reached for it and grasped it in his hand, turning it over hesitantly before flipping open the cap with a shrug and pouring a generous amount of the viscous liquid over his chest and arms.

After passing the bottle to TV Negan, who followed suit, he began to lather the oil across his upper body, eventually trailing his rough hands down to his thighs and calves. He took in the sight of his muscles glistening in the light, the oil highlighting every curve, and then raised his eyes to look at the other man just in time to watch him finish applying the oil to his own body.

Somehow, looking at the attractive older man naked and covered in oil caused an unexpected flood of arousal to take root in his stomach, and Original Negan felt his cock twitch to life ever so slightly. Hoping that TV Negan hadn’t noticed, he shook off the feeling as best he could and readied himself for the fight.

“Ready for me, big boy?” TV Negan inquired, licking his lips slightly and looking Original Negan up and down. Shit! Had he noticed after all?

“You fucking know I am, asshole. The question is: are you ready for all of this?” he responded, gesturing to his large frame.

Without saying a word, TV Negan lunged for him, tackling him to the floor and straddling him before pinning his hands down next to his head. Caught off guard for a moment, Original Negan stared up at the man in a daze, wondering how someone smaller than him had managed to knock him on his ass so quickly.

After he regained his composure Original Negan used his legs to flip the man off of him, causing him to land with a thud on the floor to his left. Before TV Negan could get up, Original Negan had climbed on top of him and used his knees to pin the other man’s hands by his side.

“Well, shit! You’re pretty fast for such a big guy!” TV Negan’s gaze drifted down Original Negan’s body, landing firmly and obviously at the man’s crotch, “And I do mean big! Holy shit, man! You appear to be a grow’er, not a show’er,” he said with a wink.

“What are you-“ Original Negan looked down at himself, flustered by TV Negan’s accusation, only to find that the part of his body he affectionately called Lucille Two had betrayed him again and was standing firmly erect, pressed fast against his lower stomach. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t even noticed.

TV Negan used this temporary distraction to break free, his slick body pressing into Original Negan’s as he escaped his grasp, sending the larger man scurrying forward in an attempt to re-capture his opponent. Original Negan’s oil-soaked hands slid out from under him on the wooden floor, causing him to sprawl forward and his chin to connect with the hard surface with a thud as he crashed down.

“Ha! Made you look, shit head!” TV Negan called out from behind him. Fuck was he ever fast!

Before he could get back on his feet, Original Negan felt the other man land on top of him from behind. His chest pressed into his back as he threw his whole weight into Original Negan, ensuring that he would stay on the floor.

“So, I take it you like what you see, huh?” TV Negan practically purred into his ear, his mouth was less than an inch away and his silver-streaked stubble brushed against Original Negan’s smooth cheek, “You might try to cover up your…tendencies…behind that harem of wives we’ve got going on, but your dick ain’t doing such a good job of keeping up appearances, Neegs.”

Original Negan felt his hips buck almost involuntarily as another wave of arousal hit him at the older man’s words, and his ass connected firmly with something hard yet soft behind him. TV Negan’s cock dug into him from behind as the he ground his hardened member against Original Negan.

“Heh. That’s what I thought. You like this, don’t you?” TV Negan inquired.

“Fuck you, douchebag!” Original Negan boomed from below, his face still pressed against the cold wooden floor as TV Negan continued to pin him down. He tried to sound furious, but his voice wavered. He knew the truth, just as TV Negan did, that he was in fact very into this.

“That’s the idea, dollface,” TV Negan replied in a low tone.

With that, TV Negan lessened the pressure against Original Negan just long enough for him to roll over before straddling him again, this time higher up on the large man’s muscular chest, which brought his sizeable cock within inches of Original Negan’s mouth.

“You sure do have a pretty mouth, you know,” TV Negan beamed down at him from above, “It’d be a shame if we didn’t find out how it feels wrapped around my dick, now wouldn’t it?”

“I-uh…what the fuck?” Original Negan felt his eyes go wide as his face grew hot with embarrassment, a sensation he had not felt in ages.

There wasn’t much that could embarrass the boisterous man, and yet the sight of TV Negan straddling him and offering him his cock was almost too much for Original Negan. Oh sure, he had done some same-sex experimentation in college. Lord knew that the long nights on the road with his table tennis team had led to some pretty wild shenanigans, which often devolved into homoerotic romps with some of the other men.

Original Negan hadn’t ever really thought hard about his sexuality or put a label on himself. His motto had always been “If it feels good, do it!” So why was he balking at the chance to literally go fuck himself now? Or, at least to fuck an alternate version of himself.

With these thoughts racing through him mind, Original Negan locked eyes with the man on top of him and raised his head off of the ground far enough so that his mouth hung just in front of the head of TV Negan’s cock. Without breaking eye contact, he trailed his tongue over the slit, flicking it up quickly at the end. He felt a shudder of pleasure radiate from TV Negan as a small moan, almost too faint to hear, escaped the man’s lips.

“Mmm. Good boy. I knew you would find a way to put that mouth to use.”

TV Negan lessened his grip on Original Negan just enough for him to free himself. Once his large arms were able to move, his first instinct was to flip the older man to the ground and fuck his shit up royally for pinning him down like that. Instead the lust won over, and he grabbed the other man’s ass firmly and forced his cock closer to him so that he could fully insert it into his mouth.

The sensation of TV Negan’s thick cock filling his mouth caused another wave of lust to hit him and a slight whimper made his throat vibrate against it. TV Negan must have enjoyed this because his rough hands quickly found their way into Original Negan’s thick, dark hair where they grabbed on tight and forced his mouth even further down the shaft.

A sigh of contentment left TV Negan, “Mmmm…Now how did I know you’d be so good at this? Must be that slutty, filthy mouth of yours? Hmm?”

Original Negan continued to suck the other man’s cock vigorously, taking him all the way into his throat, but his rhythm was broken by a sharp tug on his hair that forced his face to look up at the man who was still perched above him, “Answer me when I’m speaking to you!” TV Negan warned, slowly extracting himself from Original Negan’s mouth with a pop.

“Yes!” Original Negan answered.

“’Yes!’ what?” TV Negan asked.

“Fuck yes, my filthy mouth is great at sucking cock. Now, can I get back to it?” he replied, more than a little bit annoyed.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’,” TV Negan grinned down at him, “I think I’m good and warmed up now, and I want at that ass of yours. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”

Original Negan considered TV Negan’s proposition for a brief moment before giving his answer in a low growl, “Fuck no, it’s not. Let’s fucking do this.”

“Good!” TV Negan said simply, standing. Original Negan relished the sight of the man looming over him, his cock bobbing just above him, glistening with his saliva. TV Negan’s eyes darkened as he regarded Original Negan, who was still sprawled on the floor below, ”Get on the couch and get that cute, little ass in the air for me then.”

Original Negan did as he was told, placing his knees on the cushions and gripping the back of the couch. Within only seconds he felt TV Negan take his place behind him, his body radiating heat against him and the hair of his happy trail brushing across his ass slightly as he lined himself up with Original Negan’s opening.

“Now, normally I’d use some lube, but…extenuating circumstances seem to have left us fresh out of such luxuries…so I guess I’ll just have to improvise!” TV Negan said gleefully. Original Negan heard the unmistakable sound of TV Negan spitting into his hand, and only a few seconds later he felt the man’s hard, slick member pushing against him from behind. A sharp gasp of pain caused him to jerk forward as TV Negan’s tip trespassed his tight hole, and suddenly the man’s hands were on his hips, pulling him closer.

“Ah! Fucking fuck! Be gentle, asshole!” Original Negan growled in anger.

“I’m sorry, baby doll. I’ll go easy on ya. Just relax,” TV Negan cooed.

Original Negan took a deep breath and allowed his muscles to relax a bit as the other man pushed himself further inside. Now fully buried in Original Negan’s ass, TV Negan began to thrust into him slowly but firmly, his fingers digging deeper into the skin of Original Negan’s hips. Original Negan moaned deeper, letting the initial discomfort melt into pleasure as TV Negan quickened his pace.

“I knew you were gonna like this! What a filthy, little slut you are – just letting me waltz in here and fuck you right away,” TV Negan punctuated this with a playful slap to Original Negan’s ass.

Original Negan moaned deeper, feeling his cock dripping with arousal, desperately needing release. As if he was able to read the large man’s mind, TV Negan grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand and pulled him backward far enough to force him into an upright position. With one arm across Original Negan’s chest, TV Negan slipped his hand down to grab the other man’s cock, never slowing his pace as he fucked the younger man from behind.

“Oh fuck, that’s perfect! Keep fucking me and make me cum!” Original Negan moaned, lying back against TV Negan’s chest as the man pumped his cock expertly.

Shudder after shudder of pleasure coursed through Original Negan’s body at the feeling of his cock being milked while his ass was being fucked relentlessly by TV Negan. He knew that he was close to orgasm as his large thighs began to shake uncontrollably with each pump. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes shut tightly while a low growl left his mouth.

“That’s right, baby. I know you want to, so why don’t you just cum for me?” TV Negan whispered in his ear.

The feeling of the other man’s breath against his cheek was just the sensation that Original Negan needed to push him over the edge. In a flurry of curses that would make a sailor blush, he released himself all over his lower stomach and TV Negan’s hands, the streams of fluid pooling into the fabric of the couch.

Once the last few aftershocks of orgasm had subsided, he felt TV Negan slowly pull himself out of his ass as he simultaneously pushed Original Negan back down into the couch so that his ass was in the air. Seconds later, Original Negan felt TV Negan’s copious, warm release hit is ass and upper back as the man came against him, his breath erratic and labored.

“Oh fuck that was good!” TV Negan allowed himself to slump against Original Negan, still breathing heavily, “You have such a nice, tight ass. I couldn’t help myself. Had to mark my territory. Now everyone will know that I screwed you raw.”

“Mmmm. You know what? I think I’m fucking ok with that. Quel fucking surprise,” Original Negan admitted.

It was at this point that some of the Saviors burst into his office, but Original Negan was too far gone to notice them. They had been sent on an urgent mission to notify him that the cooks had added a special ingredient to the soup that evening: wild mushrooms. Unfortunately, the person who had found the mushrooms growing in a field that morning was not a very adept mycologist, and had mistaken psychedelic mushrooms for edible ones. In doing so, roughly half of the Sanctuary’s residents had been accidently dosed and were tripping balls. Evidently, this number included Negan.

They found Negan alone and naked, slumped against the back of his couch, and completely covered in baby oil and his own semen. As they toweled him off, throwing subtlety amused glances at one another, they caught a few words from the dazed man about “alternate time lines” and a “sexy, fucking old dude” who “needed to shave that shit”.

At one moment, Negan locked eyes with a young man in a moment of apparent clarity, “Hey! You! Riddle me fucking this: If you fuck your clone, is it masturbation or incest?”

The young Savior’s eyes widened momentarily, preparing to answer one of the most important philosophical questions of the post-Apocalypse, but one of his comrades managed to quiet Negan down first, and he was spared that pleasure.

After finally getting Negan to lay peacefully on his couch and covering him with a blanket, the Saviors who found him vowed to one another to never speak of the “magic mushroom incident” to anyone for fear of Negan’s wrath. The next morning, their leader woke up with a splitting headache and vague memories of some very sexual, homoerotic dreams involving a man with a greying beard and dimples for days. He smiled to himself over coffee with his wives, deciding to keep the dreams to himself as future spank-bank material.

#comicnegan>#negan's thirst squad #negan smut #negan fanfiction #twd negan fanfic

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